Several months ago, I sought out professional help for a traumatizing experience I’ve gone through, and so my colleague recommended to me a local psychiatrist that was best suited for me and my experiences. It seemed at first I could trust this psychiatrist, but now after recent events, I’m unsure […]
“Maybe the world would be better off without you.” These were words I never expected to hear from my therapist. Up to that point, she had always been on my side, despite the many flaws that made up my character. I had fleeting thoughts of suicide, but it was never
Thank you for coming, doctor. I honestly didn’t think the renowned psychoanalyst, Jeffrey Gilland, would see me. Then again, it isn’t every day you are handed the opportunity to interview an insane colleague. And I am your golden ticket to a more profound reputation, aren’t I? Please, you don’t need
A couple of months ago, I found a diary written by a young girl, Florence Blackwell, who was a patient at the Kings Park Psychiatric Hospital on Long Island. Without telling the entirety of the story over again, there was one person who was instrumental in Florence’s survival of inhumane treatment at the hospital; a nurse named Mary.
I grew up on Long Island, right outside of the Kings Park Psychiatric Center, home of the legend of Cropsey. I was always a good kid, never broke any rules, never really pushed the limits of what was and wasn’t “allowed”. But recently, I moved home after graduating from college,
I hate the water. Always have, always will. Oh, sure, I’ve swum in pools and jumped off diving boards like any other person, but I have never once allowed my feet to leave the ground at a beach or lake. Something about not having solid ground to stand on freaks