recovery
Your illness does not define you. It's your resolve to recover that does.
Enough
I listened to the pen scratching paper, writing words I would never read. I focused instead on tapping my fingers rhythmically against the fabric of the couch. I’ve never been a patient person, and this tiny room’s stagnant air reeked of Dr. Paterson’s aftershave, which made me even less tolerant of the moments passing in silence. I stared at the little black book in his hands, surprised that the weeks of notes hadn’t filled the book yet. The notebook itself was unassuming- with a hardcover, rounded edges, and ivory pages- but its contents determined my entire future.
By Kate Carlson5 years ago in Psyche
Lost and Found
Who turned on the faucets? I can't turn off my eyes. My whole body is crying via sweat. I've decided to kill my old self with exercise. Tiredness and emptiness blanket my existence, thoughts move in and out of sight. I miss them still. Now the tissues on the floor around me have formed a half-circle reminding me that I am still alive. Vicks puffs are the best for my raw nose, and obsessive-compulsive has to be some sort of foreplay for life itself.
By Leah Hayes5 years ago in Psyche
Memories of a psychotic
Does she know you’re psychotic! Mum screamed at me across the dining room table in her demeaning stance. She was referring to my new landlord whom I was supposed to live with for university. I had been offered a place for a leading university in the UK for my course, little did I know what the future would hold in the next few days, it certainly wasn’t enrolment. I felt humiliated, vulnerable, useless and tired. There was no fight left in me and so I did whatever I was told. “you are sick”, “you are not firing right”, “you are not going to university”.
By Grace Thomas 5 years ago in Psyche
The Ride
“This is how people go crazy or come sane, either one feels the same at first,” I think. I’m riding a buckskin horse whose name I don’t know along a dirt path in the middle of Reserve, New Mexico. Reserve, a town of nearly 300, is in the Gila National Forest on the Arizona/New Mexico border. I’m on a student archaeology dig with the University of New Mexico, and I’ve been camping in a tent near an arroyo for over 2 weeks. One other detail: I have 2 ½ months clean and sober and have never felt weirder in my life.
By Freckles Farm5 years ago in Psyche
Light at the End of the Little Black Book
The chilled air cut like knives with every inhale Erica took. The calm rippling of water below eased her racing mind as she peeked over the side of the bridge. Her heavy sigh clung around her as white puffs floating in the winter air. “This is it,” she assured herself. “Your terms, your time.”
By Poproflwaffle5 years ago in Psyche
Tips For Eating Disorder Recovery
This is a topic that hits me personally. Since I began my recovery, I have been an advocate for those embarking on this grueling process. I want to share this with you because recovery is hard. It takes time, and there will be probably be relapses. But, you aren't alone, and you can do this.
By Isla Berry5 years ago in Psyche
117
Most of the memories with Rafael are of pain, there is not one time when he took me, when it didn't hurt; I think I just learned to block out the pain and let my body shut down, until it was over, the thing is my body never learned to recognize any different when it came to sex. My first orgasm was at 30, my most memorable sexual encounter was at 30 as well, my body learned to recognize different at 30. There is much more detail where those two sentences came from, but for now I'll say that being rape; once or a million times marks not only your brain but your body.
By Lucinet Luna - The Author 5 years ago in Psyche
