Floating/Drowning

Click.
Each letter on the keyboard is a new hook in the sand.
An anchor to tether this vessel to something
Resembling a foundation that isn’t cracked
And leaking.

Why can’t you write something without water imagery?
Because my melatonin dosage has changed
From powdered pills to bleeding ink
And I don’t think I’ve yet found a better way
To articulate,
I’m drowning.

I’m still drowning.

And I will float endlessly until acted upon
Saving whatever kinetic energy
I can muster, to start moving
And keep moving

Stop.

No,
Please don’t let me stop.
Momentum is birthed by variables
And stars far outside my reach right now

So push me,
I won’t push back
In fact my arms will be open,
Grasping the waves to try and grab hold
Of something that can hold the weight.

But each day it grows.
And each day it spreads.
More than I would care to admit.

These waters are so cold,
But they’ve stitched me a blanket
That everyday seems more familiar
And as I lay afloat in the dead of night
I can hear waves
Quietly whispering “home”.

PF


 

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Creative Pieces dear hope

Of Two Minds

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I don’t normally over explain my work as I’m happy for people to find their own meaning. This is a pretty personal piece as it’s a self-portrait.

I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder since ’09. Before that, they thought it was depression, and before that, schizophrenia. Since I was correctly diagnosed and got onto the right medication, things have been more manageable. I still have highs and lows, but I’m a bit more balanced.

My psychiatrist has been very supportive of my artwork as it has become a form of therapy for me. Combined with some lifestyle changes (no alcohol, no meat, no excuses), art has made a big difference in my day-to-day life.

“Of Two Minds” is the name of a really good documentary on BPD, and my piece is a nod to that as it helped me in my recovery, too. The piece itself is really a bipolar Venn diagram with the purple face representing mania, the blue face representing depression, and the space where they interlink is where that ever-elusive balance is hiding!

 

 

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The artist, Chris, with his piece

A huge shoutot to Chris Eaton, otherwise known as Stanley Sprays, for sharing his story and this phenomenal piece of art with us. For many, creativity and art can be essential in our recovery. We are so grateful to Chris for sharing that message and showing how art has helped him manage his own struggles.

If you want to see more art from Chris, you can find him on Instagram and his personal website. Chris also has a really fantastic clothing line; you can find that on both Instagram and their website.  Be sure to give lots of love to Chris in the comments!

Always remember you are not alone.

You are loved.

Sandra

Want to submit to this site and share your story, art, or article related to mental health? Email wemustbebroken@gmail.com

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A Lens Into Our World dear hope

Poetry: Dream/Nightmare by Zachary Johnson

I fell asleep into another place and time.
Somewhere in between where the strings align toward another galaxy.

Isn’t the idea of space and motion dimensional in your mind?
The cheddar craters of the moon are dense similar to the unconscious walls in this place.

Sideways in suggestion, the memories channel it all back.
I wasn’t sure if I would come back, or not.
In this zone I am immortal, premature youth, everlasting eternity.

Unity cherishes us entirely.

Elevate between perishable digressions.
Infinitely vague by others preliminary impressions.
I didn’t know where I belonged past these paper-thin sheets.
Travel its forsaken boundaries that separate our inception alike.

Maybe if I sat here Saturn would pass this by.
Setting fire to sleeping burdens in every constricted corner.

I woke up.

I could be drifting off again please excuse my thoughts.
They don’t seem to fit this occasioned equation.
Problems fate couldn’t tame through scattered lost change.

The things I wanted in life, were they obtainable?
I never intended to harm your sunburnt day, or your afternoon when
You thought about me constantly in my suffering of daily prisms.
The energy I had once left my body, unfamiliar to me now like the friends
Who never met at the local schoolyard, sharing the simple joys about life.

These emotions I carry should make me valid. But how you do prove what can’t be seen?
It’s not fair. I can’t establish the present, let alone the future.

I’m scared I can’t be fixed.

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This piece comes from my good friend Zachary Johnson. Zach is the photographer for our Consumed series and is currently working with me on the music video for Sabrina Kennedy’s single, “If Only”. Find him on Facebook 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

Creative Pieces dear hope

Monday

So on a rainy day this past summer, I woke up with depression at its finest, where it was one of those days where I felt so drained of energy that I definitely was not going to be able to go to work. I called out, slept for most of the day, and managed to write this. I hope it can be relatable to those of you having a bad day, or those of you who may have felt similarly. Here’s “Monday”-

I’m not taken aback by the beauty of the sun or moon.

But that’s okay, at least I’ve learned in time that there are very little differences between objects labeled mine and days considered wasted time. Entitlement is a false concept paralleling a religious purgatory.

Creative Pieces