treatments
The past, present and future of psychiatric diagnosis and beliefs about treatment in every culture and pocket of society.
You Are Not Empty, You Are Overloaded
You are not empty. You are not broken. You are not dull. - You are overloaded. - People often describe certain mental states as “having nothing in their head,” but that description is almost always inaccurate. What feels like emptiness is usually saturation. The mind has not stopped producing content. It has lost spare capacity. The system is busy allocating energy toward coping, regulating, or enduring, and there is little left over for reflection, synthesis, or creativity. This distinction matters, because mistaking overload for emptiness leads people to judge themselves harshly for conditions that are largely structural and biological.
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast2 months ago in Psyche
Why Are Psychiatrists, Psychologists, Therapists, and Counselors Called “Shrinks”?
Most of us have heard someone say, “I’m going to see my shrink,” with a shrug or a half‑smile — but have you ever stopped to wonder where that slang word came from? It’s one of those cultural words we have heard, and we begin using them without knowing what they actually mean.
By Margaret Minnicks2 months ago in Psyche
Alzheimer’s disease
According to Alzheimer’s Association (2014), dementia is an overall term for the diseases that have memory decline and other cognitive skills that will have impact on a person’s ability in performing daily activity in the life. The most common type of dementia is Alzheimer’s disease. Alzheimer’s disease is a condition that will bring abnormal changes in the brain that will have impact on someone’s memory and the mental abilities (“Family Caregiver Alliance,” n.d.). In addition, Alzheimer’s disease is an ordinary type of neurodegenerative disorder. It characterized by cognitive impairment with a decline in the ability to carry out living activities (Jellinger, 2015). For the patient with early-onset Alzheimer’s, it usually caused by genetic mutation whereas for the late-onset Alzheimer’s patient, it may cause by a complex series of brain changes. For an instance, the causes may include the combination of genetic problem, environmental problem and lifestyle factors (National Institute on Aging, n.d.).
By Ng Teck Sen2 months ago in Psyche
When Saying “No” Feels Strange
He did not plan to smoke that day. He was standing outside his school gate, bag on his back, waiting for the van. A boy from his class took out a vape. Another smiled and asked him to try. He refused at first. Everyone laughed, not loudly, not cruelly just enough to make him feel small.
By Muhammad Ayaan 2 months ago in Psyche
Situational Depression: Causes, Symptoms, Recovery, and How to Heal After Life’s Challenges
Life does not always go as planned. Unexpected events such as academic failure, job loss, relationship breakdowns, or family conflicts can deeply affect emotional stability.
By Daily Motivation2 months ago in Psyche
My Experience on Silencing Autism
I wanted to do an educational article on something that has recently come up in my attention. I was having lunch with some of my peers - and one of the ladies spoke briefly about someone she provides care for: "You know, so-and-so still is so loud and needs to learn to not make everyone miserable just because she is miserable." The so-and-so is an autistic individual and I wanted to say something then, but bit my tongue.
By The Schizophrenic Mom2 months ago in Psyche
The Speed of Life
We live in an age where speed is celebrated. Faster internet, faster success, faster replies, faster results. From the moment we wake up, life seems to press a silent accelerator. Notifications buzz, deadlines chase us, and comparison quietly sits in our pockets. The speed of life keeps increasing—but the quality of life often does not. This raises a powerful psychological question: Is moving faster actually helping us live better, or is it slowly draining the meaning from our lives?
By Alexander Mind2 months ago in Psyche
The Weight of Words Never Spoken: What Happens When We Bury Our Emotions Alive
For years, I smiled through the pain, convinced that silence was strength. It wasn't until my body started screaming what my mouth refused to say that I learned the true cost of swallowing my truth. The panic attack hit me in the middle of a Tuesday morning meeting. One moment I was nodding along to quarterly projections, and the next, my chest tightened like someone had wrapped steel cables around my ribcage. My hands trembled. The room spun. I couldn't breathe. Twenty faces stared at me as I mumbled an excuse and stumbled out, convinced I was dying. The ER doctor's words still echo in my mind: "Physically, you're fine. But your body is trying to tell you something." I wanted to laugh. My body had been screaming at me for years. I just hadn't been listening. The Art of Pretending I learned early that emotions were inconvenient. Crying made people uncomfortable. Anger made me difficult. Sadness was selfish when others had it worse. So I became an expert at the smile that didn't reach my eyes, the "I'm fine" that meant anything but. When my father left without saying goodbye, I swallowed my abandonment and wore a brave face for my mother. When my best friend betrayed my trust, I pushed down the hurt and pretended it didn't matter. When my boss belittled me in front of colleagues, I buried my humiliation under layers of professional composure. I told myself I was being strong. Mature. Rising above it all. What I was actually doing was building a pressure cooker inside my chest, adding more heat every time I chose silence over honesty, more tension every time I said "it's okay" when it absolutely wasn't. When the Body Keeps Score The human body is remarkably honest. It will express what the mouth refuses to say. My suppressed emotions didn't disappear—they just found other ways to speak. The chronic headaches that no medication could touch. The insomnia that left me staring at the ceiling at 3 AM, mind racing with thoughts I wouldn't let myself think during daylight. The digestive issues that doctors couldn't explain. The inexplicable fatigue that made even simple tasks feel mountainous. I visited specialist after specialist, searching for a physical explanation for what was actually an emotional rebellion. My body had become a museum of unexpressed feelings, each symptom a exhibit of something I'd refused to process. The panic attacks became more frequent. My immune system weakened. I'd catch every cold, every flu, as if my body was too exhausted from managing my emotional lockdown to defend against anything else. The Breaking Point The Tuesday morning panic attack was my breaking point, but it wasn't the beginning. It was just the moment I could no longer ignore what had been building for decades. That night, alone in my apartment, I finally let myself feel. Not just the fear from the panic attack, but everything I'd been storing in the vault of my chest. The grief. The rage. The disappointment. The loneliness. The hurt.
By Ameer Moavia2 months ago in Psyche
The Night I Understood Football
I didn’t go to the game expecting hope. It was a cold November Thursday. My brother had just lost his job. My nephew hadn’t spoken in days after a school incident. The world felt heavy, and the last thing I wanted was to watch a mismatch—our hometown team facing a dynasty that hadn’t lost in months.
By KAMRAN AHMAD2 months ago in Psyche
