trauma
At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
My Story
I like to think I'm writing this because I want to reach out and help others who are also suffering but the reality is that I'm writing this because I'm hoping it will help me. Maybe if I publicly write it'll help me heal. Maybe being slightly more open about my pain will help me find some sort of healing. I don't know.
By Megali Elpida8 years ago in Psyche
Worrier to Warrior
As a child, nothing made me want to grow up more than the negative thoughts that constantly tormented my mind. I have always been known as quite the worrier by my entire family. My parents discovered my high levels of anxiety from a very young age. This became fairly apparent when I used to scream and cry almost every day before getting on the bus, practically making myself sick. My blatant terror of human interaction became clear when my excited mother and father asked if I wanted to go to Disney World and my response was, “Definitely not. There are too many people, and I could die on those rides!” There are no words to describe how low my parents’ jaws dropped when they heard that response come out of their Disney Princess-obsessed nine-year-old’s mouth. Little to their surprise, this constant feeling of anxiety that I had always experienced never once wavered as I grew older. Even as a middle school student, I despised waking up during the week because it meant that I had to do the unthinkable: socialize. The day I decided to step out of my comfort zone to be a real teenager was the day that I would come to regret for the rest of my life.
By Allison Rasp8 years ago in Psyche
My Insanely Unbelievable Life
What I'm about to tell you, is 100% NSFW, but it needs to be heard. Silence can be our greatest enemy. I was born in 1997, no father's name on my birth certificate, just my mother's. When I was three months old, she began dating Michael, who became my stepfather in 1999. I don't remember much from then, as I was very young, but our family seemed normal. It was my normal.
By Samantha Wright8 years ago in Psyche
"Hey, It's Fine."
I was fourteen. I just started my first year of high school. I had left so much past trauma behind, but it seems trouble follows me. On the first day of school there was a fight. I saw him standing there being yelled at and pushed but not giving in to the temptation of fighting back. I saw him fall to the ground and be kicked over and over again. I saw his friends standing in shock and I noticed my feet walking over. I started yelling "stop" at the boy I once knew who was doing the kicking. He and I have a history, and that's a whole deal on its own. He noticed me and backed off laughing as a car pulled up and the driver yelled at the boy I was helping off the ground to get in. I let him lean on me and helped him to the car, and I ended up getting in. We went to his house and to his room and to his bed where he told me what had happened. He was stressed and I was overwhelmed. He kissed me, he grabbed my thigh as high as I would let him and breathed into my ear how I had saved him. I let him keep going because I wasn't thinking. It escalated and I didn't want it to but soon enough he was talking off my pants with one hand around my throat and telling me how thankful he was that I was there today. I didn't know him, he didn't know me. He didn't care. I grabbed his sheets and he grabbed me. Once it was over he told me I should leave. I left. During the next couple days I discovered more about him. The first thing I discovered was that he had a girlfriend at the time. He got into trouble and I knew he wasn't going to be good for me. Every once in a while for the next couple weeks he would walk me home and end up staying in my basement and telling me all about my body and my lips and my hips, things I didn't need or want to hear. If I would protest he would tell me, "hey, it's fine, don't worry," and that was that. He broke up with his girlfriend and soon enough she messaged me calling me a dirty whore and a slut and then the whole class of grade nine girls hated me. School was just dirty looks and homework, after school was him, but hey, it was fine.
By Pearl McCarthy8 years ago in Psyche
Unceremonious Unveiling
There are few moments in life that burn itself in your memory on impact. There are some times you remember being at; sometimes a smell can take you back to your childhood, or a certain feeling of nostalgia when you bite into a peanut butter and banana sandwich like mom used to make you.
By Blake Theau Thor8 years ago in Psyche
