trauma
At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
PIECES
I was being held against the wall in a hotel room by my throat. My feet dangling in midair. My mind is racing trying to not panic however, at the same time I am thinking of how to get out of this. It is amazing how very fast or slow a mind goes in the face of danger. I heard the man who was tightly pressing his huge fingers to my throat say, "Don't try to take advantage of me.
By C~Marie Rhodes5 years ago in Psyche
Ships in Bottles
Abby never gave much thought to how her life would end. She was, afterall, only 16...she only knew that she would not mind if it ended sooner rather later. 16 years would not seem like the time to think of death, not to most people anyway. But Abby already lived a lifetime. A lifetime of pain and abandoment. Her best years, her ONLY good years, were those spent with Papa Mac.
By Patti Marrs Magill5 years ago in Psyche
Freedom, Two Ways
It was happening again. Alicia flinched and ducked her head under the covers. When Dad came home drunk, there was nothing to do but hope you could avoid the line of fire. Luckily, it was late, so he wouldn't expect to find the kids awake. It was better that way.
By Jennifer Eager5 years ago in Psyche
RUBY
Chapter 2: Ruby Growing up, Ruby was my closest "friend," even though she was actually my aunt. She wasn't much older that I was, and in the beginning I didn't mind spending time with her, even though we often practiced inappropriate things. You see, Ruby was being sexually abused as well, often bragging about how she was taken to nudist beaches at the age of 11-13. While I cant confirm how long she was being abused, I can confirm how long she was abusing my brothers and I.
By Wendy batts5 years ago in Psyche
I changed my world: so he did too
The Phonecall March 2008, it's a little passed midnight and I'm sat in a friends house, trying to get high with the fierce daggers of said ex ticking for another joint and some how holding me responsible for his lack there of. It was 'dry season' in my city and we had spent the day looking for some kush and still came out dry. I had one last idea. I text my old school friend and asked if she knew anyone who could hook me up. She did. She gave me the number of someone she was in cooking with at college. Liam.
By Kayleigh Taylor5 years ago in Psyche
Centaurea Cyanus
Brian Solis said, “Memories are the architecture of our identity.” Memories give us the ability to be aware of ourselves and alter our existence. Without memory, how do I even know I exist? I feel as though I am floating in the plasma of time, unable to return to my past, and unable to move forward without it. They say it is my own mind keeping me here. It feels ironic when all I think about is leaving this place.
By catchafrisbie5 years ago in Psyche
Inside
Inside ~ By : J Tales are something parents tell their kids so they sleep better at night. Peaceful and Enchanting dreams created by the fairytales of their favorite superheroes or who they admire most in the world. To avoid the darkness and fearful nightmares of reality hidden beneath the surface. Lights grants truth and the truth brings peace. How long before those fairytales become lies? Well this story however is not a fairytale but it is the deepest part of your mind. Emma lays awake at night hoping and praying her mind’s eye is just an illusion. Inside the shadows there is a light in the distance pulling Emma and longing for her to reach it. The darkness that surrounds Emma to the point she hears nothing but the sound of her own thoughts at night. Asking herself “what’s wrong with me?” Over and over again never coming up with an answer for hope. “Faith” she whispered to herself, “I have to believe in faith” but is that all she can wish for. A shiny star in the sky, A last glimmer of hope and freedom. Is faith really all there is for an answer? With her hands over her head and pacing back and forth until she falls to her knees and Just cries. Crying for hours of the night til falling asleep to wake up to the sunlight hitting her face. She has to put a smile on her face and pick out an extraordinary outfit to start the day. Covering her wore out eyes from crying all night with makeup. Emma’s mind pushes back all the bad and focused a smile on her face for the entire day just waiting to go home and suffer in silence. “Another day....” she said as she walks into the whole slowly breaking inside but holding up a strong front to hide herself from showing she’s breaking inside. After a long Emma comes home and it’s filled with silence again so she turns on the music to surround the room with noise. After awhile of sitting with so much noise in the room it becomes not enough the thoughts in her head drown out the noise. So she finally stands up and walks in her bathroom and grabs pills. She takes a few with some liquor. “I can’t do it anymore” she cries. She turns the music off and goes to lay down but her body is so weak. Emma lost all hope the moment she took those pills. Everything in her body screams to die, that her only peace is death. As her eyes closing slowly she can hear footsteps but can’t make a face it’s all a blur. As she’s embraces her faith and ready to go into an eternal deep sleep and she slips into the darkness of her mind spiraling down memories. She remembers the coldness and loneliness of when she was raped for the first time as a child. Men coming into her room as she was sleeping putting their hands around her neck so she couldn’t scream as one man rips her clothes and the others hold her down from struggling. Her eyes start to blur in and out of focus as if she was going to die but before she lost all vision she could see the man’s face. With a slightly shaved beard and dark hair and eyes of coldness as he took off her pants and forced himself upon her. The face she saw, the face she loved so dearly once before .... was her own father.
By Justis Thomas5 years ago in Psyche
Suffocated
*Content Warning topics like Sexual Assault are talked about in this story* It is easy to get wrapped up in good looks and niceness. By doing so, you don’t see the red flags that pop up like bread in a toaster. I should have seen them sooner and left. Instead, I got wrapped up in his chocolate brown eyes, silky soft hair, and prince charming smile. I almost hate myself for how attracted I was to him. He was nice to me, and now because of him,I can’t be fooled by every nice person that walks into my life.
By Sami Geiger5 years ago in Psyche
Social Bullying
My most embarrassing story is an on going one and finding the place to start is tad complicated. My story involves, mental illness, drug addiction, internet bullying and stalking. Online I am simply known as Q. Maybe you know of me, or maybe you don't, either way I figured it was my turn to share my half of the story and the embarrassment that it has caused not only me , but my family as well. This is a story I have yet to say out load, let alone to a bunch of strangers.
By Paige Walls5 years ago in Psyche
