coping
Life presents variables; learning how to cope in order to master, minimize, or tolerate what has come to pass.
Innocent Eyes Tell Truthful Lies.
While ducked under a bed that had been untouched for months, I could sense his presence in the room. Trying to conceal my cry and squeezing my mouth shut only made the situation more unbearable. I believed the closest hanger could provide me protection. As I shortly came out to discover, it did not. I watched as he pranced around the room for a few moments waiting to see if I would surrender. He laid down on the floor and snatched the hanger out of my tight little grip. I overestimated the strength of a girl my age. It was a dark misty night, therefore there was no shadow I could follow along the floor of the bedroom. I instead listened as my drunken father walked around the bed frame, slightly clanking his beer bottle against the metal base as he passed. After a few seconds, a charge of adrenaline rushed through my veins as I wiped my sour tears away and decided enough was enough-or so I thought. Beer bottle shards cut through my tiny toes as I crawled out from under the bed, darted towards the door, and away from my college-bound brother's bedroom.
By Elizabeth Rightler5 years ago in Psyche
The Perfect Chocolate Cake
It was the perfect chocolate cake. The first one she’d made. Oh, not the first cake she'd make. Not the first chocolate cake either. Oh no, there were many iterations of that. Not the first she had enjoyed. Not the first that looked good. She didn’t even know how it tasted. And yet somehow she could tell. This was a perfect cake. The first perfect cake she had ever made.
By Elizabeth Camilleri5 years ago in Psyche
Grief 101 Moving is not the same as moving on.
I share my stories based on my personal journey since the death of my husband of 40 years. My experience is not everyone's but there are many widows and widowers who can relate. Today I feel like an empty park bench that needs someone to sit on it to be complete. I am moving and doing and going but definitely not moving on.
By Cheryl E Preston5 years ago in Psyche
Surviving Depression &The War Inside Of Me
Life is a bitch... A phrase that everybody either says or hears at one point of their life or another. A phrase that is so accurate, society might as well just mark it off as universal law. The phrase life is a bitch should be categorized in the same group as Newtons laws of physics, the rules of proper grammar, and the sum of 2+2. In short, the four word sentence might as well be officially respected as a fact of life.
By Carlos Guerra5 years ago in Psyche
My Long Nights with Macklemore
One hour. When I was at my lowest mental health point in high school, I would listen to Macklemore for a minimum of one hour every single night. I don't think that they intended for "Neon Cathedral", "Otherside", and "Starting Over" to mean so much to a broken 16-year-old girl who didn't have a problem with alcohol or drugs, but it meant more to me than I ever could have expected. Alcohol and drugs weren't my demons, but I sure as hell had other ones. My demons were depression, anxiety, self-harm, disordered eating, guilt, and grief.
By Emily Mainor5 years ago in Psyche
The Rundown
I've always liked to write. I would read books all the time as a kid for enjoyment and sometimes to escape my reality. When I was a teenager, I was into poetry and wanted to be a singer in a band, trying my best to write lyrics and learn guitar. At one point, I was living with my mom and she found my journals. Of course, a lot of the songs were about how shitty I felt all of the time. Well, she took this personally and yelled at me for a while about it. I realized that I had no privacy and I ripped them all up; every single one. I had at least three notebooks full of writing and sketches and I tore up everything.
By Kerri Chisum 5 years ago in Psyche
