trauma
At its core, trauma can be thought of as the psychological wounds that persist, even when the physical ones are long gone.
Focus Isn't About Trying Harder: It's About Friction
In the age of constant notifications, open tabs, background noise, and infinite scrolling, we've come to believe that focus is a matter of willpower. If we just tried a little harder, eliminated laziness, and summoned more discipline, we could finally sit down and get things done. But what if this assumption is wrong?
By Nikesh Lagun10 months ago in Psyche
INTP Mircea Cărtărescu's BLINDING (vol. 2): the body (translated from Romanian)
I no longer truly experience anything, even though I live with an intensity that simple sensations couldn't possibly convey. Even when I open my eyes, I still cannot see. To no avail, I linger rigid in front of my oval window, chasing echoes that slip away. As if my being extends beyond ordinary senses to myriad ways of knowing--each unique, each responsive to different stimuli: one sensitive only to my coffee cup's form, another receptive exclusively to the pattern of last night's dreaming. Another attuned to that terrifying whisper in my ears, heard distinctly a few years ago, as I was sitting, in a ragged pajama, with the soles of my feet on the radiator, in my room on Ștefan cel Mare Boulevard. I no longer register modifications of light, variations in the pitches of sound, the chemical composition of the carnation and the kitchen dishwater, but whole scenes swallowed instantly by a virtual sense, opened on the spot in the center of my mind solely for that glassy and transient scene like a wave of water, reacting with it, altering it, flattening it, invading it like an amoeba and forming together another reality, primordial and immediate, illuminated by desire and made obscure by peculiarity. It is as though it were the case that everything that happens to me, in order for it to be able to come to pass for me, surely it is something that must have happened to me already, as if all of it already exists inside me, but not fully formed or complete: rather, dormant, in shriveled little layers, rudimentary, coiled tightly within each other, somewhere in the brain's structures--but also in the glands, in the organs, in my twilight, and in my ruined houses--all waiting for confirmation and nourishment from the modulated flame of existence, which itself remains unfulfilled and embryonic. I no longer feel except what I have already felt once, I can no longer dream except dreams already dreamed. I open my eyes, although not to perceive color or contour--for light no longer refracts into corpuscles to traverse my crystalline lens and the translucent layers of my retina, no longer produces rhodopsin in my cone-shaped cells; instead, whole images manifest fully formed, sculpted directly in rhodopsin, and accompanied as if by an aura of sound's fringes and delicate strands of tastes and aromas, alternating icy cold and searing heat, of suffering and compassion, of a head turning to the right--an action simultaneously verified and questioned by my inner ear's cochlear knowledge. Entire neighborhoods materialize, each bearing their own time, their own space, and their own emotional weather, and especially their own degree of reality--because they can be actual or dreamed, or imagined, or transmitted via the ineffable filaments that connect our lives to those who came before us--lips and genitals arrive, and streetcars sliding along iron tracks during winters with filthy snow, my mother comes once in a while to bring me food, sometimes Herman comes. I wouldn't be able to understand any of this if it weren't being reconfigured, in another way, in my internal landscape (my world), if it weren't opening the ocular buds from there, unless I whispered to myself every moment: "I have experienced this before, I have already been in this place," just as you cannot perceive light if light hasn't already existed in the back of your mind's experience, cultivating the faculty for light within you. Hence, my life is but a life already lived, and my book one already written--for the past encompasses all, while the future is but a void.
By ANTICHRIST SUPERSTAR10 months ago in Psyche
The Scroll That Never Satisfies: Why Short-Form Content Leaves Us Spiritually Starving
I open the app, and within seconds, I'm swept into the current. A dog-tasting peanut butter for the first time. A podcast clip where someone's crying about heartbreak. A dad surprising his daughter at school. A pastor delivering a one-minute message on identity. A fitness influencer explaining "three reasons you're still bloated." A sped-up recipe for honey garlic chicken. A baby laughing so hard, I can't help but laugh too.
By Robert Lacy10 months ago in Psyche
The Silence Around Childhood Trauma Awareness Month in Cincinnati Speaks Volumes
June is officially Childhood Trauma Awareness Month in the city of Cincinnati—a designation that should carry weight, urgency, and city-wide conversation. But walk through any neighborhood, flip through local news channels, or scroll social media, and you’ll hear nothing but silence. No press releases. No community forums. No rallies. No recognition of the man responsible for this proclamation: Ronald Hummons.
By Emma Wegenast10 months ago in Psyche
Is AI Your Secret Weapon for Mental Peace? 5 Apps to Save Your Mind
Mental health isn’t just a buzzword—it’s a journey we’re all navigating, sometimes in silence. I remember a rainy evening stuck in traffic with my wife, the kind where the world feels heavy and words don’t come easy. A random memory of a road trip—us laughing over a torn map under a flickering flashlight—broke the silence and reminded us who we were. That moment was a lifeline, but what if you could have a lifeline in your pocket every day? Enter AI: not just for sci-fi movies or chatbots, but for real, tangible mental health support. These tools aren’t here to replace therapists; they’re like quiet companions, helping you process emotions, track moods, or just feel less alone.
By F. M. Rayaan10 months ago in Psyche
10 Shocking Psychological Studies That Crossed Every Line
Introduction : Psychology is meant to heal, to help us understand the mind, and to bring light to the darkest corners of human behavior. But sometimes, it does the exact opposite. Throughout history, some psychological experiments have gone so far off the ethical rails, they became nightmares in the name of science. These studies didn’t just push boundaries — they obliterated them. Some left emotional scars, others cost lives, but all of them left one question hanging in the air: how far is too far?
By Jure Bracic10 months ago in Psyche
