Nervosa
by Evan
Look at me, we are dual TV screens,
Look at me, the new me,
It’s been years…. a few years.
Sometimes people lose touch, break tree branches,
Bark turns into pieces- it’s slow.
Careful now, don’t touch,
Side step the crackling leaves.
I’ve lost touch, some things are obsessive,
Behavior can border on nervous,
This piece, our second installment of the night on creative works on eating disorders comes from Kate Chandler, titled “Doubt: Sarah’s Poem.”
I remember when we were younger
we would play outside your house
riding on your huge dog like a pony we would mount.
It’s funny, that dog used to mean the world to me
yet somehow I can no longer remember his name.
“I am a 29 year old average Australian Psychology student who has ADD, depression, anxiety and Binge Eating Disorder. I am no artist, but I can dream. I have found an outlet in creating – be it by computer, words, or images.
This image is a visualization of the intense emotional pain that is currently trying to burst out of me all at once. I call it life pain, as it is the accumulated pain and hurt from the span of my life.”
This piece was submitted by the talented Donna Shell. You can find her on WordPress, Deviantart, and Instagram. Find more art submitted to Dear Hope here.
Always remember you are not alone.
You are loved.
PF
Want to submit to this site and share your story, art, or article related to mental health or mental illness? Email wemustbebroken@gmail.com
What if mental illnesses were shown on the outside?
Would we still be afraid to ask for help?
Since I was 13 years old I have fought depression, anxiety and bouts of insomnia. Since then I have tried to explain what that pain, discomfort, emptiness, and apathetic nature feels like to people. Often the words would come up short, and even the poems, songs, and stories I wrote didn’t seem to fully paint a picture into someones head to make them understand what I was going through. As I increasingly became aware of the lack of education and the stigma that surrounds mental illness and mental health, I thought about trying a different approach.
And that’s when the Consumed: Mental Illness Through Photography project was born.
Below is Ethar’s poem “Almost”, and her artwork of what helps her make it through the day.
“I will go down to the lake
And dip my toes in the blue-green water,
Tadpoles tickling my feet.
It would be a cliché scene
If it weren’t for my bottle of morning Prozac
Sitting beside me,
On the grass.
This post is a little late, but HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
My personal life has become hectic once again, and found myself beginning to neglect the website through the holiday season. But I wanted to take a look back and reflect before going forward into 2016.
In February of 2015 Dear Hope started out as a personal blog for a class I was enrolled in for college credit. By May, I had remodeled that blog into this website; one that I hoped would turn into a community of people sharing experiences about their relationships, struggles, and triumphs with mental illness and mental health.
That’s what I did.
But what did we do?
We started off the first year with over 31,000 hits on the website. We brought together people struggling as teenagers, to college students with eating disorders, to fathers finding new purpose after a suicide attempt, to mothers in their sixties with a bipolar diagnosis. We spanned the globe, connecting over 99 countries and 1,035 dedicated followers together through heart, honesty, and passion.
We gave hope.
We gave hope to so many people that we may never know. And for anyone who helped contribute to that, I am eternally grateful, and so are so many others.
But what’s next?
2016 will continue to expand in every way possible for Dear Hope. I currently have multiple submissions sitting in our inbox from new places around the world. The Consumed: Mental Illness Through Photography project will continue to be shot and is expected to be completed in April.
I plan on revamping the website again by summer, and have some new series I wish to start. The one in the forefront is Music Mondays where people discuss a song, album, or artist that has helped them through a tough time and why. (If this sounds interesting to you, shoot us an email!)
There’s also some more things I’m working on, and can’t wait to share them with you all.
I look forward to this journey together with all of you.
Always remember,
You are not alone.
PF
The Deadly Promise
The real me is disguised
by this massive unwanted weight.
Staring blankly into the glass,
praying to be given the most
valuable quality, that of perfection.
I don’t need anyone.
All I need is you.
My happy little addiction,
sweeping me away into your
false, troubled world.
The more withered I get,
the stronger you and I become.
Together we are reckless,
doing anything it takes
to be empty and accepted.
I can never be too critical
you always leave room for my improvement.
You promise me joy.
So I follow you willingly
into the depths of disappointment.
It’s never enough for you.
Therefore it’s never enough for me.
I signed your contract,
because I worship your
ability to beautify others.
Make me like them, my friend.
Transform me into something magnificent.
This poem was submitted by Kelsey-Brooke Scheumann.
Remember you are not alone.
You are loved.
Want to submit to this site and share your story, art, or article related to mental health or mental illness? Email wemustbebroken@gmail.com
When I talk about my personal journey with mental health, music is something that is seldom left out. Music was one of the first ways I personified and expressed what I was feeling. It was a way to cope with my depression and anxieties, and a great way to feel like I belonged. It gave me my own microcosm of a community. One that I felt a part of.
But the scene isn’t always a welcoming place (especially depending on the genre), and different labels and artists can often come under fire for the ways bands and artists portray themselves and what they preach.
Sounds and Tones Records is not one of those labels we have to worry about.
My passion grew
unknowingly
with thorns
outside eyes view.
Shadows,
with no known source of light
left more questions
than admittable answers.
Watching microwave numbers
countdown to zero,
acknowledging time passes
is a privilege in concept.
Teased with control,
long abandoned
when the hands unfroze.
How do you tell your story when you don’t know where to start?
How do you write your story when it only breaks your heart?
How do you find the answers when they really don’t exist?
How do you understand why your life turned out like this?
Dear Hope 