Psyche is powered by Vocal creators. You support Ayesha Javed by reading, sharing and tipping stories... more

Psyche is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.

How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.

How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.

To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.

Show less

Depression and Dissociation; A Story of a Cruel Coalition

To Those Who Are Still Trying to Find Their Way Out of This Spiral That Only Heads Downwards! Like Me, Like so Many

The idea that grows from a seed to a tree. The man the roots of it, the tree that stands so tall, so problematic. If the tree is your depression and dissociation then maybe your thoughts became the fertile ground it grew upon. Flip it upside, maybe. Maybe it's not a tree but roots that resided dormant and now have spread down from your thoughts and made the foundation that defines you. Did the man and his thoughts give birth to the darkness or did the darkness already exist and has made the man what he is now? Questions! Questions! Questions!

We’ve all heard the sayings, the motivational quotes, the words that guide you to look at the positive. Time is a magnificent creature, they tell me, and in its passing, you may heal. What if you no longer possessed the power to look at the glass half full; Susie! your own mind is working against you. Neither does it give you enough serotonin nor the strength to overcome the replenishment of the very resource. What if your mind made you forget what it's like to feel joy? True joy, not the high you feel from a fake laugh or dancing in the dark. What if it made you forget you ever experienced the feeling too? Like it turned the pictures of all the memories you stored in your heart to black and white. So you see the young version of yourself laughing as your dad tickles you utnil you cry but you no longer remember how that must have felt like. Oh! How the weary find their way to worsen the state they are in, without intention or action. What if the weight of each day became too great? Your lungs couldn’t even handle the weight that dispersed to your chest from your shoulders. Blame the mind that’s been placed upon the two, if you may. Every breath became a conscious effort. To have to think and schedule every inhale and exhale, now that’s what I call true exhaustion. Did your legs too ever stake claim to your burdens and lose the will to carry your body? It seems like you’ll have to learn how to walk again. My words, you read, but do you feel my pain. Do you feel it yet?

Three days of staying awake, then 12 hours of sleep, three days of eyes wide open, then 12 hours of peace. Has that ever happened to you? Must have been the hallucinations that kept me awake or maybe it’s the other way around. Can’t be sure of much these days, not even reality for that matter. Wondering, pondering, thinking of all the “w” questions; introspection at its finest. It’s outdoing overthinking that gets you so down, Susie. Dissociating your way through life so much that you don’t even make any memories anymore—now that’s one cruel fate. Neither the blade on your skin nor the cigarettes to your wrist can help you get out of it. No hope exists, so it feels like. No road that can be taken out of this damage, no map to the treasure of tranquillity. How then do you go on? Do you feel it yet, the pain?

It’s the morning sun, would you believe it? As the night fades and the sun shines through my window, it brings something with it that we have, far too often, yet never truly value: the light. I see it bounce on my lashes at the corners of my vision. Like a little contemporary piece it has put together just for you. The warmth that spreads from the bottom of your waterline to the ends of your toes. Do you feel this now, the soothing warmth? Take long breaths if you must—you are in charge of the scheduling after all. Your feet are heavy, so halt. Don’t forget they still have to follow your commands. If your shoulders can’t bear the burdens anymore then maybe give them to someone else for a little while. Don’t hand them over and expect them to process all that strains your soul. Give them these in the form of smiles and kind words. They might just reciprocate and in the moment you’ll realise that’s all you really needed. Hold your own hand when you feel alone because dependence on that beyond your skin doesn’t always provide the stability you need. Be your own preacher, sensei, master, guide, pilot, call it whatever you may. I’ve tried all the fixes from a to z: support, therapy, pills, things much darker than that. Nothing worked but the rays of the sun. Maybe because I felt it surround my every fiber, and maybe at the time that’s all I needed.

It’s still a struggle: each day, each breath, each step. I wait for the morning sun now though. For a single moment under it is worth the wait. Do you feel it yet? My words in your mind. Do you feel the tree springing from this seed of thought? Let it grow, proud, tall, and colourful. With its roots in your mind and its branches spreading through your entire body. Feel it for the tangible thing it is. Feel it as if it was a wave rushing downwards, to the ends of your fingers and toes.

Now Reading
Depression and Dissociation; A Story of a Cruel Coalition
Read Next
The Bridge