• What happened after I shared my story of sexual abuse.

    Thanks to Jeremy for being brave enough to write this post for us and to raise awareness on issues of male sexual abuse. Feel free to reach out to him on twitter at https://mobile.twitter.com/jak_jeremy I am a male survivor of longterm (10years) childhood sexual abuse. I am straight, 35 years old I disclosed publicly at 24. It was done on impulse when I saw the abuser at a public place with a young boy. Most straght male survivors of same-sex abuse don’t disclose for 25-30 years if at all. I know a few straght male survivors, all of the ones I know did not disclose until they were well established…

  • What men don’t talk about by Stephen Howard

    Abuse. It’s something very few people are willing to talk about, but men most of all. Doubly so if they have been the ones abused. It’s not really any surprise considering the level of shame that comes with it, and when you have family member stuffing it down, pretending it doesn’t exist. Worse yet, they are in it. What does this create? A lot of broken men who are told that their feelings don’t matter and that they need to suck it up and deal with it. After all, men don’t cry, right? Breaking the Stigma Contrary to popular opinion, men actually feel things very deeply. Our emotions are like…

  • Mental health of a mature student.

    This was a guest post written by the amazing blogger https://beautyofmychaoticmind.com If you like what we do feel free to contribute by buying us a drink at https://ko-fi.com/abbey0245 Referring to myself as a mature student makes me feel a little strange. I think it is maybe because I am still a big kid at heart, but there is no denying that I am a mature student. I am a mother of two most amazing, boisterous and fun loving kids, a wife to an incredible husband and a psychology student. I started studying this degree in 2017 at the age of 33. Prior to commencement of my studies I never envisaged…

  • A Lesson About Goals

    A couple of years ago, I climbed a mountain. It was a summer holiday in the north of England, and for some reason, I thought it would be a good idea. I started by walking through fields, past cows and farmland, and I felt confident. This will be a breeze I thought. Unfortunately, I was cheated, as unlike other fells and hills I’d climbed, the incline was particularly flat, and somehow, I’d convinced myself that the whole journey would be this way. An hour in to the walk, and with only a mile or so to go, I sat on some rocks, feeling incredibly sorry for myself. My feet were…

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