family
Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.
Siblings + Depression (Pt. 1)
I came home for the summer just in time to see my younger brother graduate from high school. The experience for me was, for lack of a better word, weird. On one hand, I was incredibly proud, of course, of this young man that I have seen grow up from birth. I remember him being small enough to hold in my arms and now he’s taller than me and has a raspy bass in his voice. I think back on the times I was so annoyed with him for following me around or copying the things he saw me do. I see how despite those times I’ve still managed to influence who he is in small ways. More so, I see my mother and my grandfather in him. I recognize the acceptance he has in the fact that his father won’t be at his graduation and how he’s at peace with that. I wish I’d been granted that same sense of acceptance.
By Devon Rooks7 years ago in Psyche
Beginning
My toes skim my reflection in the water, turning me into a smudge of myself. As the water stills, I see the shape of my upper body. Pale, of average build, leading up to a normal round face, framed by normal brown hair. Boring, really, except for my eyes, which the water, try as it might, couldn't capture. A mixture of blue and green, like a stormy ocean. Though I have never actually seen the ocean, its what my parents tell me.
By No-Focus-Pocus (HMR)7 years ago in Psyche
Thoughts in My Head
Where do I even begin? Before I had ever become pregnant with any of my children, I worked hard. I hated not having a job to support my self and especially hated having someone take are of me. I first got pregnant when I was 18. Even with him, I worked up until three days before I had him. I never let my pregnancy get in my way. The same thing happened with my next child four years later. Within two or three months after having both of them, I was back to work. I wanted to make sure I could provide for my children. In 2016, I got pregnant with my second son. His pregnancy was a bit different. I started to develop back issues and was taken out of work at seven months pregnant. With the pain that I was going through, I did not mind it so much. It wasn't until a year later in 2017, that I was able to get a job. I began working for an armored truck company, with odd hours in the day. There would be days where I would work nine hours or there would be days where I would work 14 hours a day. It was fine, because I knew my kids where with someone I trusted and they were safe. My job on the other hand, was not such a safe job, but it helped with the bills. In June of 2018, out of no where, I had a gran mal seizure. After weeks of tests and being sick, not knowing what was going on, I was diagnosed with seizures and epilepsy. I was told that it can happen anytime, anywhere. With that being said, I was also informed that I could not drive for a year unless I was seizure free that entire year. Well, the problem is, I have what they call silent seizures multiple times a day. With not being able to drive, its hard to find work especially because July of this year, I also found out I was pregnant. I am currently six months pregnant—a stay at home mom that suffers with having seizures daily and a lot on my mind.
By Amber Consiglio7 years ago in Psyche
Deranged from Pain
At a young age, I learned to cry with style: silently, with soft tears rolling down my cheeks after swelling gradually in my eyes. No smears or streaks. Just water with a tinge of salt, and boundless pain. When I started crying in front of him, it felt all too familiar. Like how I would cry when I’d be called out of class to find that he had packed the car again and waited for me to beg him to stay. Like how I would cry when he’d show me his black and blue thighs and swollen rib cage. Like how I would cry late at night when I could hear my mother’s scurrying footsteps and piercing cries, followed by loud thuds on the wooden floor, and the sobs of my oldest brother as he watched. Like how I would cry when he’d hand me that rattling yellow bottle and tenderly ask me to hide them, for if I couldn’t keep them safe, he may not live—or so he said.
By quinn riley7 years ago in Psyche
How Did I Get Here
How did I get here? Yesterday I spent the day in bed, sleeping, coughing, sick. I still get up in the morning before my kids go to school and I make dinner each night. I don’t work outside the home, but feel worried about money and being in debt all the time. What is the problem? My husband left me when I was 48. I was a stay-at-home mom after owning my own business for two years. It was successful enough, but I became pregnant with baby #3 and considering my partner was more like a messy child, I decided to sell my business and stay at home to care for my children. Things were getting out of hand at home and out of hand at work. I realized for the first time in my life I could NOT do it all and my needs were not getting met in my marriage.
By Jacqueline Smith7 years ago in Psyche
The Reality of Being the Wife of a Depressed Man
As trained counsellor (who practiced privately for five years) it's almost expected that I have myself completely "together." You wouldn't believe the amount of times I've been told that I "must have my Mental Health really sussed!" and even more so that my relationships are happy, healthy and have absolutely NO Problems! Ha-ha! What a pile of crap!!
By Write What You Know8 years ago in Psyche
