recovery
Your illness does not define you. It's your resolve to recover that does.
Accepting Weight Gain
It is the most difficult part of eating disorder recovery. Letting go of the sick and emaciated body that you spent years striving towards, the safety of a ribcage that sticks from under your bruised skin, and the comfort in listening to anorexia and her sickening demands. Your body changes day to day, meal to meal, as it tries to readjust itself to a regular feeding schedule and a substantial food intake. Bloating, cramps, stomach pains and no appetite are all part of the refeeding process. But what happens after that? When your body gradually remembers how to digest something other than diet soda, and you can see the numbers scribbled in the weighing room begin to increase. There is plenty of support to get you back in a healthy, strong and functioning body, but little to none when you are faced with dealing with the unavoidable weight gain, and the new body you begin to see in the mirror.
By Rosie Carlile8 years ago in Psyche
Understanding the Problem
I grew up in an Irish Catholic family with parents who were divorced and angry and with siblings who tried their best to survive like me. I don't think I ever understood my siblings until I became older and realized that they were trying to get by just like I was. Ever since I was little I was seen by my family as being the "bright" one, the caring, happy, smiling one which set me apart from my siblings and mother who raised us. I remember running free in the grass barefoot collecting pretty rocks and playing with bugs and tiny creatures in the back woods.
By Cat Dempsey8 years ago in Psyche
Self Harm
Someone once told me that self-harming is a coward thing to do. They said that it is selfish to do. That it's a choice. It isn't always a choice. I don't remember what day I picked up a razor blade for the first time. I remember the reason why I did, though. I remember the sting of the blade cutting into my arm. I remember the overwhelming feeling of relief that washed over me after each cut. The same relief I felt each time I picked up the blade and touched it to my skin. I got that same relief with the snap of a hair tie or rubber band against the skin of the wrists. You can't take a razor blade to school, especially when the school itself upped its security measures after a bomb and gun threat was found in the school. You can, however, wear a rubber band or a hair tie on your wrist, in your hair, or even just put it in your backpack or purse. No one thinks anything of it. I remember I used to discreetly snap it on my wrists between classes and sometimes during classes. It was so easy to hide the marks with a jacket.
By Tori Quintanar8 years ago in Psyche
My Emma
I measured my year in linoleum floors. In fluorescent lights, in the smell of rubber and artificial lemon air freshener; in narrow hallways silent except for the faint buzz of the heater. I measured my year by counting the beds occupied and the pairs of sheets needing to be changed over once morning came. I counted the clipboards thrust into my hands, tearful retreats to the stark, institutional public restrooms; in pitying eyes staring at my 2 AM, mascara-streaked, dark- circled face while I slumped over in the near-empty waiting room.
By Kaylyn Buckley8 years ago in Psyche
Your Health Matters!
So mental health is what we call a tent pole topic in 2018. More and more campaigns, blogs, Facebook pages proliferate, all encouraging people to open up, be honest, and just simply listen to others’ mental health concerns more. Although at the same time it is, of course, worth pointing out the advice one often receives is to stay away from photo-centric social media, lest we become envious, upset, or anxious that our lives don’t measure up to the lives of others.
By Richard Brind8 years ago in Psyche
Am I Going Crazy?
On the outside, everything is fine. I am sitting with people who know me, who care about me. I am not alone, I am not being tormented outwardly, I am not in an awkward situation. Everything is normal. Except it's not. Inside my head, I am going over and over every possible situation and scenario that could possibly go wrong. Is she looking at me weird? Why did I wear this dress today? Is there something in my teeth? Why am I such a failure at being a friend? How come no one can tell that inside, I'm drowning? Why would I ever tell anyone? Am I going crazy?
By Mathilda Burton8 years ago in Psyche
A Letter to the Addict Still Suffering
Image By: Lauren Crawford - Image Retrieved From: Chiron A Medici Company - https://chironhealth.com/blog/treating-addictions-telemedicine/drugabuse-shutterstock272600351-people-holding-hands-feature-image-drug-addiction-treatment/
By Jaquelyn Cannon8 years ago in Psyche
I'm Not What I Seem
My name is Matthew Duguay. I was born on May 25, 1994, to my loving parents, Deanne and Brent. I have two siblings, a younger brother and sister named Samuel and Arianne, respectively. I work a full-time job as a laborer and customer service representative in a salvage yard. I feel as if most people would describe me as a happy, fun-loving, young guy who enjoys life all around and tries to make every moment matter, but there's more to this tale then what appears.
By Matty Duguay8 years ago in Psyche
Dealing With Severe Health Anxiety and Psychosomatic Symptoms
From December 2017 - May 2018 I experienced months of severe, and some could say sudden, health anxiety symptoms which completely took over and ruined most parts of my life. That first sentence sounded very dramatic but I can't stress enough how debilitating it can be to be constantly convinced that you are seriously ill every second of every day. My anxiety (fortunately or unfortunately?) hooked on my ability to see and created a compulsive fear of going blind (which I later found out is called Scotomaphobia).
By Lynsey Blacklock8 years ago in Psyche
