ptsd
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; The storm after the storm.
I Sedated My Self-Hate with Self-Destruction
My mother once told me that I was such a pretty newborn that she felt moved to place a purple flower at the head of my crib. I was taken aback by her words since, to me, she was a woman who wasn’t especially maternal. I’d grown up with a sense of ugliness and felt a mistake.
By Chantal Christie Weiss6 months ago in Psyche
Why Our Brains Struggle to Forgive AI Mistakes
It’s strange, isn’t it? We forgive people for making mistakes every day — a friend forgets your birthday, a waiter brings the wrong order, your sibling borrows your sweater without asking — yet, when a machine makes an error, something inside us snaps. We don’t just see it as a mistake; we see it as a betrayal. A computer is supposed to be flawless. That’s what we bought into.
By Vocal Member 6 months ago in Psyche
I’m the One Who Never Falls Apart—Until I Did
By Nadeem Shah I’ve always been “the strong one.” You know the type—the person who listens at 2 a.m. when someone needs to vent, who holds space for tears that aren’t their own, who never seems to crack no matter how heavy the storm gets. That was me.
By Nadeem Shah 6 months ago in Psyche
The Silence Around Hypersexuality: What Survivors of Sexual Abuse Aren’t Saying — and Why It Matters. Content Warning.
When Survival Looks Like Shame Hypersexuality isn’t often included in conversations about trauma recovery. It’s the messy, uncomfortable truth that doesn’t fit the popular image of the “damaged but quiet” survivor. But the reality is that many people who’ve experienced sexual abuse develop an intense, compulsive relationship with sex — not because they enjoy it, but because their body and brain are trying to reclaim control.
By No One’s Daughter6 months ago in Psyche
The Silence Between Us
By Nadeem Shah It had been 472 days since we last spoke. Not that I was counting—at least, not anymore. In the beginning, I counted everything. The days since the argument. The hours since I thought about calling. The number of messages I typed and never sent. The seconds I stood outside your door that one night… and turned away.
By Nadeem Shah 6 months ago in Psyche
Once A Child . Content Warning.
From the moment we open our eyes—crying in a cold, sterile hospital— the conditions of love begin to blossom. Living and growing in our mother’s bellies only holds a safe place for nearly a year before we were quite literally ejected into chaos we didn’t ask for. From that point on there are conditions to the amount of love and respect we receive. From birth when we are “good babies” in the nursery, the nurses praise us for our cooperation, whereas fussy babies, while still looked at as precious cute creations, are deemed more difficult. Though this example is rather vague and lacks depth into the true meaning of conditional love, it is a pivotal reminder of how we enter and leave this world. Alone.
By The Darkest Sunrise6 months ago in Psyche
