Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Psyche.
What Not to Say to Someone Who Is Depressed
I’ve struggled with depression my whole life, and every day it’s a new challenge seemingly more difficult than the last. Because mental illness is still greatly stigmatized, it can be unnerving to even think about opening up to others. When opening up to someone about depression, (on top of the feelings of crippling anxiety) is the usually crushing or straight-up insensitive responses. So here I have compiled some thoughts on things NOT to say to someone with depression.
By Ollie Greene8 years ago in Psyche
It Is What It Is
This phrase has been often pointed out as a way of giving up. Unfortunately, I use it a lot. It is hard to not just give up when you have so many voices in your head telling you to. We all have them. But as somebody who has lost people because they just “gave up,” “it was too hard,” “it’s too painful,” “nobody cares”... "it is what it is.”
By Heidi Sunshine8 years ago in Psyche
The Anxiety Elf (Part 3)
It’s over. I am no longer "The Anxiety Elf," although the anxiety bit still stands. It’s been well over a week since my last shift, and I’m so glad to be out of there and back to my simple routine, although to begin with I was missing working. It was making me fidgety not having anything to do—but I would rather be fidgety than anxious about having to go back. The money I earned will run out and eventually I will have to think about getting back into more work.
By TheAdventuresOfRoo8 years ago in Psyche
Living with Bipolar Depression
Bipolar disorder (BD), also known as manic-depressive illness, is a brain disorder that causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, and the ability to carry out day-to-day tasks. It’s being as happy as can be one second, then crying yourself to sleep the next. It’s feeling everything and absolutely nothing all at once. You get agitated easily, making it complicated to explain your feelings to others. You’re sad.. over little nothings. And happy for seemingly all the wrong reasons. Basically, it’s bullshit.
By Tessa Wilbanks8 years ago in Psyche
Mean People on the Bus
I lived in the Mission-Excelsior district while I was going to school at San Francisco State University. A bus route ran through that neighborhood as a way of getting to school. This incident happened on the 14 however, which went down Mission itself while the school line went to Ingleside. Living off campus was better than living on campus, as way too much drama was happening on campus, save me moving with normal roommates as well as accomplishing my desire to live with a graduate student on top of that. The school wasn’t having me move out of a toxic living environment. On the bus one day, I was going home from somewhere, when this guy puts his arm around my seat, so I leaned forward as not to have him actually touching me. The woman next to him was an elderly woman with extreme jealousy problems toward me.
By Iria Vasquez-Paez8 years ago in Psyche
When Depression Becomes a Real Problem, Part 1
If there is anything I've really noticed in past few years, it's that mental health is being discussed more and more. Thanks to platforms like YouTube, you are no longer forced to choose from few canals and few shows on TV. You can find almost anything you want to. Specific documentaries, movies (if you know where to search ;] ), gaming videos, let's plays, vlogs, vines, even InstaStories, videos on Facebook, and Snapchat can entertain you when you need a quick break.
By Micah E Lucanus8 years ago in Psyche
Here's to You, 2017
New year, new me, right? That’s the most cliché statement in the world, but I can tell you, this year has taught me so much about love, life, heartbreak, and strength. Ironically, January 1 is the start of a new year, and also marks five months since the worst day of my life. Those five months were also the most significant months of my entire life. I’ve learned that if I made it out of August alive, I could basically make it out of anything. My story doesn’t end at me being shot, losing the love of my life and having to move home. My recovery wasn’t an easy one. I couldn’t drive, I was in immense pain every day, and even taking a shower or getting dressed was traumatic because of how hard it was. It just ended up being a constant reminder that my life turned completely awful faster than a speeding bullet. Literally. I cried just about all day, everyday for weeks. I would text him at least a couple times a day when everything in my mind was too much for me to deal with. I needed to know how he could just stop caring after loving me so much. I needed to know how he was okay, because I wanted so bad to be. After a couple weeks of this I told him that I was bringing our dog down and coming to see him, knowing I wouldn’t, but desperately hoping for a response. He texted my mom to let her know I had said that, in hopes she wouldn’t allow it to happen. About three hours later I texted him again, as I lied in bed with all the medicine I had left the hospital with. I asked him to please take care of our dog when I was gone, because he was the greatest blessing in the world, and he deserved to grow up with one of his parents. This time he didn’t text my mom a warning. I took about 25 opioid pain killers, 800 mg of seroquil, and an entire bottle of Prozac. About 20 minutes later it turned scary. My vision was blurred; the world was spinning. My heart started beating so fast, and so hard that all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears. I remember trying to sit up and holding my heart, terrified that I was going to die from it exploding, and wondering if that would be a painful way to go. After a few minutes I lied down and closed my eyes, hoping to just fall asleep. I vaguely remember hearing my brother screaming. I remember hearing the EMTs. I remember randomly hearing nurses ask me questions that I thought I was responding to, but it was like my whole body was paralyzed besides my ears. I remember that I was forced to drink liquid charcoal, and then I remember waking up in the ICU. When I woke up, it was 14 hours and three rounds of narcan later. When I found out how close I was to succeeding I wasn’t relieved I hadn’t, but cried because I wished so much that it would have worked. After a few days in the hospital that changed. I was grateful for the people I met, and grateful I was living. I’d be lying if I said that there hasn’t been many times since that I’ve lied in bed wishing I had been successful, or thinking about suicide. But I realize how far I’ve come, and it’s only going to get better from here. I learned how little my life meant to the man I loved, but how much it meant to all those around me, even people I barely knew. I learned that I can feel happiness again, even if it’s not the same way I felt it before. And even more importantly, I learned it’s okay to not be okay, and that so many other people are capable of understanding how you feel, even if it’s not those closest to you. So, 2017, thank you. Thank you for kicking my ass, making me hit rock bottom, and slowly starting to build me back up. You’ve given me wisdom, strength and most importantly, determination. This year is about me, and being better than I ever was before, and building a life for myself, not someone else.
By Amanda Cleveland8 years ago in Psyche
We Don't Need No Medication, Hey! Doctors, Leave Those Prescriptions Alone
You're probably bored searching through stories or just stumbled upon this due to your interest in the topic. I'm not writing this to bash doctors and I'm not fully against medication. I do however, believe there are natural remedies which do help cure illnesses and infection without the side effects and ingredients we can't even pronounce.
By Britt Whiteman8 years ago in Psyche
