trauma
At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
Hidden Costs of Narcissistic Abuse
I am now treating my intuition as my spirit, my belief system, and I believe in myself. I will no longer abandon myself or my beliefs because I don't want to get sick again. My body knew, and I got sick. It started with brain fog, hypothyroidism, breast problems, cysts in the body, heavy menses, and much more. All symptoms...
By Christa Cusack O'Neill5 years ago in Psyche
John
John is a bad name. Every day is a day of war. Every few days are good days but for the most part, there are constant shots being made. There is always an underlying monster waiting to take a hold of someone from our family. Most of the time the monster takes hold of my dad. I guess he is pretty weak. He stomps around searching for any type of weakness or problems.
By SJ Augustine5 years ago in Psyche
Time's Up
I can’t quite hear myself think, the television is blaring, and the smell of maple pancakes and hickory smoked bacon appear to waltz around my nostrils. I didn’t even realize it had started; my fingers were nervously tapping upon the wooden table as I considered what I would do next.
By MK Colbert5 years ago in Psyche
My Dark Guardian Angel
The wind pushed against my face; I felt weightless. Suddenly, I stopped. I opened my eyes and saw the ground near my face. Looking up, I became aware that everything that frozen. My dress and hair were frozen flying in ripples behind me, and the leaves on the trees were frozen in a paused wind. I didn’t know what was happening; I had never died before, maybe this was normal. I heard a slow clapping, breaking through the silence. I looked around to find the source, but I didn’t see one.
By Christan Tracy5 years ago in Psyche
The Baptism and the Bake Sale
She sought a nepenthes… something to mute the pain… banish the memories. An analgesia of monumental proportions. Her story was markedly different. It was sadly unique. No one could identify the hardships, the abuse, the trauma, the pain, by having a conversation with her (surface), by seeing her (beauty), by meeting her (personally). There were no tell tale signs of the wrenching PTSD that lurked/lingered/proliferated beneath her outer layer, like lava within a volcano, denied by the very ones who owed her assistance.
By Jalyn Janvier5 years ago in Psyche
Through the Darkness to New Beginnings
“Now I am strong and lapped in sorrow As in a coat of magic mail and borrow From Time today...” -Stevie Smith I was a precocious child. I had multitudinous interests, mostly of the natural sort, ranging from gardening and hiking to bird-watching and chicken-keeping. The future, it seemed, was laid bare before me—I could see it, practically touch it –and in that future, I was successful, I was enchanted by my work, and, most of all, I was happy. Of course, I would be married, with 2.5 children and a white-picket-fence-house with all the amenities. I would have a dog, and chickens, and perhaps some peafowl and goats. I would garden and I would bird, I would hike and I would rehabilitate wildlife in my spare time— why not? I had all the time in the world. But time, alas, has been a fair-weather friend, and childhood dreams are oft left by the wayside.
By Elizabeth Noyes5 years ago in Psyche
Summer Survivor
***TRIGGER WARNING. MENTION OF SE*UAL AS*AULT IN THIS STORY. Sweet summer. For most people my age, summer is a breath of fresh air. A break from the eight hour school day, A break from homework, mean teachers and the early mornings. I remember thinking to myself, "This is going to be the best summer yet". It'll be full of fun, parties and adventure. The summer ended up being the worst of my life.
By Kacey Baker5 years ago in Psyche
Lost in the Wild
She woke up softly, to the scent of sea salt, cow pies, and alfalfa. It was a distinct smell, one she had come to know well. A single ray of sunlight beamed brightly through the gnarled wooden planks and the gap between two of the old weathered boards. She grimaced as she rolled to her side, her hips sore from the solid ground she slept on. She slowly brushed some hay away from the edge of her dwelling to reveal a series of notches as she carved one more with a small jagged rock; 42.
By Avery Cecil5 years ago in Psyche
“One day I will look back on this moment and be proud.”
A year ago today, my narcissistic ex-boyfriend broke up with me. At the time, I was miserable. However, it wasn't totally unexpected. I had known since the fourth of July this was going to happen. After a long weekend of walking on eggshells, I left early to work with the family I was nannying. I was so early that I sat in my car and broke down, thinking. "I can't do this anymore. He's going to break up with me today, and I will not allow him back into my life. No matter what he says or does, I am not letting him back in." After I had repeated that in my head for a good thirty minutes, I put on my happy face and went to work. I spent the next four hours exploring and hiking with the children and overall had a fantastic time. At the end of my workday, I was at peace. So, ultimately when it was time for me to return home, I was ready, I was prepared for the fight, I was ready for the ridiculous allegations of infidelity, and I was ready to close this turbulent chapter in my life and kick his ass out of my house.
By T.R. Hartsock5 years ago in Psyche
