vintage
From Freud to phrenology to old-school outlooks, a look back at vintage psychiatry and mental health treatments as documented throughout history.
Soviet/Russian INFJ Maxim Gorky's The Life of Klim Samgin (VOLUME TWO)
In Spivak's recounting of the exhibition and the fair, Klim Samgin became aware that the tenderness he had once felt survived solely in his memory, having vanished as an emotion. He knew that what he was saying wasn't interesting. He was embarrassed by his desire to establish his own line between the exaggerated adoration of some newspapers and the grumbling cynicism of others, and besides, he feared falling into the rude and mocking tone of Inokov's satirical pieces.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR11 months ago in Psyche
Chapter XVII: The Sovereign of Shadows
The wind shrieked, calling me through the hollow arches of my empire, and shared the whispers of those from which I had long departed. They did not capitulate, they did not bend the knee—those stubborn flames in their unyielding commitment who were steadfast in grisly devotion to my cause even while I drifted into infinite nothingness. I stand now before the stripped down bones of my empire, their magnificence reduced to chambers of resonating echo and thrones of dust. *Why have I returned?* The question coils in my heart like the serpent of eternal regret. Perhaps it is the burden of promises I once scarred into the flesh of memory now bleeding through the cracks of time. Or perhaps it is the truth that solitude, even from this frayed kingdom, is a reprieve from the honeyed mumble of humankind. Humanity—how shameless a pantomime! They murmur constantly of virtues they loathe, and in the very next breath, dive into the sins of their own disdain. Their laugh, a knife—that roasts, and their kindness, a mask stuck to rotten flesh. I have tasted their "compassion," a goblet of vinegar, and spit it back into oblivion. They are the architects of their own suffering, bringing offerings of opinions about the innocence of gutting like lambs to a slaughterhouse. Weakness masquerades as strength in their world—a monstrous breeding from the bones of gentle chitterers.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH12 months ago in Psyche
Way back when we were grownups...Were we though?
Do humans ever really feel truly grown-up. Or is it a skewered, befuddling and abstract confusing subject. Adulthood...that glittering mirage on the horizon of youth, often feels like a destination that never quite materializes. Many chase the elusive notion of being "grown-up", only to discover that the essence of maturity is neither linear ( consisting of or related to straight lines, or a single dimension) nor definitive. It’s a bit like trying to grasp a shadow—it morphs, evades, and teases, leaving you wondering if it was ever meant to be caught or held unto earnestly or desperately.
By Antoni De'Leon12 months ago in Psyche
Change is a Part of Life
In the Sonapur village, the old mango tree was casting a shadow as the sun set. The slender dirt road where Rohan used to play was bathed in golden light. Now, years later, he was returning after a long time, a stranger to the place he once called home.
By Niranjon Chandra Roy12 months ago in Psyche
