Happy (belated) World Bipolar Day.

Thank you all so much for your contributions to this video.

<3

Chloe

Kosmik Kandy's art studio feels like a fever dream. She welcomes me into the room with a sweet smile. Nestled into the heart of Seattle's South Lake Union neighborhood, this art studio doubles as her apartment.

It amazes me that the small room can contain so many colors. Though the walls are plain white, they are lined with canvases painted red, blue, yellow, and every color in between. Most depict people, but I also spot a red heart hanging in a purple mist, a drawing of an hourglass etched in bright yellow pastel, and an archway with purple curtains hanging from its frame.

Looking back to my first meeting with Kandy a month ago, it really shouldn't surprise me that her apartment is so stylish. Then, she wore space buns and a silver jacket that she assured me was vegan leather. Now she’s dressed in a simple green dress with a bandana and tall white boots. Her nails, makeup, and hair are completely different from what they were a month ago.

Kandy's Business Plans

Kandy is currently an art student but hopes to soon open her own gallery. The gallery will be called Kosmik. Its purpose: bringing together smiles and new friendships. Kosmik would be an inclusive space for artistic expression.

Kandy’s business plans also speak to her passion for mental health advocacy, offering free therapy for youth and people who can’t afford it.

Wellness

Kandy’s wellness routine includes vegan eating and a dedicated exercise plan. Watch her talk about veganism and even make me a meal:

Kandy's Perspective on Veganism

Hula-hooping

Beyond the gym, one way that Kandy stays fit is by hula hooping, which she’s developed into its own art form.

Until my meeting with Kandy today, I associated hula-hooping with elementary PE, but for Kandy, it’s another serious art form. Much like many types of dance, her hula hooping involves jumps, spins, and impeccable choreography.

Kandy hula-hooping

The hula-hooping prowess Kandy demonstrates in this video is especially impressive because of how windy it is! Kandy hula hoops to music and overlays colors, texture, and sparkles.

Check out Kandy’s artwork along with some great insights she had for each piece.

Rainbow purse

Here is Kandy with one of her visual art pieces: A stuffed rainbow purse! “I love stuffies,” she explains. “I thought: Wow, what would be a fun way for me to carry a stuffy everywhere and not make me self-conscious? It’s a purse, so you don’t look terrible out in public holding a stuffy.” The rainbow is also the Kosmik logo and represents positivity, inclusivity, and freedom to be oneself.

Frida Kahlo

Kandy painted this portrait of Frida Kahlo two months ago. “I started thinking outside of myself,” said Kandy. “I wanted to pay honor to an artist that I'm inspired by.” She immediately thought of Kahlo, whose story resonated with her. “Through her great tragedy she was still painting.” Kahlo taught Kandy that she could paint through tragedy. Kandy and her boyfriend refurbished the frame, which was thrifted from Goodwill. “I had a lot of fun with it. I really like spray paint.”

Art pallet

This is Kandy's art pallet. “My art pallet tells a story of all the pieces I’ve made. It’s just laid out in the sun to dry out basically. I don’t clean it even though I should. It gives it character!”

Heart in purple sky

This painting is called Universal Love. “I felt like I was getting depressed and lonely.” Kandy explains that the painting is a depiction of her heart feeling lonely. Space is a frequent theme in Kandy’s artwork and brand. She calls herself the "Space Queen."

Selena Quintanilla

Another painting that catches my eye is of Selena Quintanilla, a Mexican singer who performed traditional Mexican music and one of Kandy’s idols. “She’s an icon. When I was a little girl I watched her movies and listened to her music. Her vocals are so powerful.” To Kandy, Quintanilla stands for a strong, powerful Latina woman. “I’m a mix of Frida, who was this homey, down to earth, no makeup person–all about her art, love, and passions–and of Selena, who was all about performing and show, being a star.”

Rorschach Test

This painting is called The Psyche; it represents Kandy’s fascination with the human mind. "The cloud signifies the place I was in at the time, as though I was foggy and looking for clarity. I study psychology when I need clarity. I actually took the max number of classes you can take as an art major.”

Baby

Originally, when Kandy began painting this piece, her goal was to portray her depression, hence the dark background. “As I started painting,” she says, "I realized I didn’t want to birth something negative. I wanted to birth life, give life, so I thought–how do I represent that—a baby!” The painting can also be construed as the inner child wanting to be seen.

Sweatshirt

“This collection I started because I was thinking of how to expand my brand awareness for Kosmik Kandy. I want it to stand out.” Kosmik is “all about being colorful.” Kandy thought, “I need to get white sweatshirts and tie dye.” Afterwards, Kandy ironed on the lettering. “That was really fun! I did that all here!”

As I close the door of Kandy's art studio, I think about how open and honest Kandy was about her mental health. Though bipolar disorder can be a debilitating illness, Kandy still manages to bring light and positivity into the mental health space. Her words remind me of her artwork- bright and colorful spots on an otherwise blank page.

       But they don’t trust me.

Since my diagnosis, my identity now boils down to the sum of two words. If I become, justifiably, angry over a facetious remark made, by a family member, about my history of eating disorders, I’m “being bipolar.” If I can’t quite contain my excitement over my favorite artist coming out of his reclusion to engage in a more-than-generational hip-hop beef, I’m “becoming manic.” 

It’s not my prerogative to educate my family on the finer points of my illness. But, it is my responsibility to ensure I’m doing everything I can not to fall back into the ol’ bipolar “cycle.”

Cycling is a funny thing. Not laugh-out-loud, choke-on-your-drink, funny. More funny like watching yourself, helplessly, vacillate from a deluge of unfettered euphoria and indomitable, unsubstantiated confidence into “the sky is falling” but there’s no Chicken Little to drag you out from under your duvet funny. Oh, sweet snuggly duvet, and Netflix, and dark chocolate—my last refuge.

I used to take pride in my cycling. Maybe pride isn’t the right word. Yes, bipolar is a lifelong condition, and yes—to some extent—it represents an inextricable part of who I am; but, I used to view bipolar as the most interesting part of myself—a superpower that came with its fair share of drawbacks (notably, the depressive fallout tailing the divine blessing of mania), but a superpower nonetheless. I felt overjoyed every time I felt a (hypo)manic episode coming on; in fact, I chased the feeling. Who was I not to welcome graciously the kiss of God? 

I loved the unbridled creativity, the boundless energy, the beauty in the madness. Let the good times roll… until they don’t. Until I empty my bank account pursuing a dream I’ve barely conceived yet believe, so fervently, aligns perfectly with “my destiny.” Until I go scorched earth on cherished relationships over the slightest disagreement. Until I forgo my hard-earned sobriety for a bender of drugs, alcohol, and cheap sex with perfect strangers. Until the rush of creativity behind my skull and the electric current beneath my skin become far too much to handle, and I weep and gnash my teeth as I burst at the seams.

And then the world flattens, and falls away.

And, I realize—to my abject dismay—that said world is better off without my being in it.

I understand why my family fears my illness. I only wish they didn’t fear *me.*

I can’t control their feelings. But I can control what’s in my, well, control. I can take my meds. I can go to therapy. And, eventually, maybe I’ll earn back that trust. Only time will tell. 

Until then, I’ll be doing all in my power to get there—for them *and* for myself.

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For the longest time I kept blaming my medications for weight gain. My medications made me crave carbs and I would give in. I finally decided to take control of my weight. I lowered my portions, replaced condiments with hot sauces or ketchup without added sugars, stopped eating the kids scraps, stopped eating crackers, stopped snacking at night and if I do I would make plain popcorn on the stovetop with coconut oil and a little salt, I reduced sugar and started running as a hobby. I still make sweet treats such as dates with peanut butter inside and dark chocolate drizzled over the top. I also still will have treats over the weekend like cheesecake or ice cream. Making a meal plan helped me so much because I felt I was able to stick to it because I wrote down what I was going to eat for the day. Losing weight was the best feeling, I now have more energy, I'm faster at running and I feel comfortable with my body.

Eating better and exercising has been the best thing for my mental health. When I run my anxiety goes away and I get runners high. I know it seems daunting and hard and sometimes you don't know where to start. It's those small changes that can turn out to be larger ones and before you know it you're feeling happy and proud of yourself. Don't let your mental illness define you and control you. It is up to you to make the life changes you need in order to live a fulfilling life. Don't give up as it is 100% worth it.

Come through on Sunday to share your memories of Gustav. Let’s hold tight to community.

Gustav’s family is still accepting donations in their effort to cover their medical expenses:

Donate to support Gustav's family

If you never saw Gustav perform, please enjoy the video below: a collaborative poem by Gustav and another beloved member of our community, Nemo.

Love to you all,

Stephanie and Chloe

Stephanie from the Make Yourself Collective and I are hosting another Zoom open mic at 7 pm EST (4 pm PST, etc) this Sunday.

Subscribe now

It’s the same Zoom ID as before even though we’re doing a new time (ID attached below!)

Hope to see you there:)

Chloe

Having bipolar means you have to work twice as hard (or more) to remain stable compared to a neurotypical person. Everyone has their ups and downs is something you may hear a lot and it is true, but for someone with bipolar, it is much more extreme. If someone is struggling, I don't suggest mentioning everyone has their ups and downs because it is invalidating. 

As someone who battles bipolar disorder, I have been through so much. I have gone through psychosis twice, severe depression twice, and have had many hypomanic episodes. Once you are stable with medications, it does not mean that you will remain that way either. I feel fortunate currently that with reduced stress by not working or doing things that could cause stress,  running a few days a week, playing soccer, eating healthy, talking to a therapist when needed, and keeping my brain occupied when I'm not feeling myself, I have been stable for 6 months. It is not easy having this disorder and everyone has a different experience.

Some people can work no problem and others struggle to keep a job. Finding the right medication isn't easy and everyone reacts to them differently.

In conclusion, bipolar can be managed, but it is an extremely difficult disorder to live with. Going through psychosis was absolutely terrifying for myself and my family. I said and did the strangest things. I kept thinking I was famous and at times couldn't even identify who I was. Severe depression in my opinion was much worse because I am such an outgoing bubbly person who no longer wanted to live. Depression made absolutely no sense to me and I couldn't understand why I was feeling so awful.

Read more in Arielle's book!

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Madeline Roth was diagnosed with schizoaffective bipolar disorder at the age of 26 in 2018. She is a writer, podcaster, activist, and artist based in Salt Lake City, Utah. Her work centers on themes of spirituality, connection to collective consciousness, and the rights of the natural world.

Madeline's website

Madeline's Instagram

When I was eleven, I checked out The Complete Poems of Percy Bysshe Shelley from my local library. I can’t remember which poems I read, just that the text was tiny and in two columns down the page. I asked my mom to help me interpret the poems but she told me if I wanted to read Shelley, I could figure his poems out on my own.

I have been an avid reader of poetry since my youth. The library was my portal to poets. My favorite book to check out as a teenager was The Hell with Love: Poems to Mend a Broken Heart, a collection by Mary D. Esselman and Elizabeth Ash Velez. I was so infatuated with the idea of being in love. I wasn’t sure how to go about flirting or finding a boyfriend or girlfriend but was fascinated by this thing that held so much power. The words of poets talking about being in love, out of love, longing for love, hating love, rejoicing in love, being over love, I couldn’t get enough.

I majored in English Literature in college and my horizons were pushed beyond odes to Aphrodite into works about God, time, nature, the collective unconscious, and beyond. I read a lot of contemporary poetry on my own time because I worried about becoming an acolyte of top hits poets. I didn’t want to become a meme of a girl who gets a BA in English and proclaims she has an exclusive and innovative relationship to the texts of Gwendolyn Brooks or Robert Frost.

I was relatively unscathed by schizoaffective bipolar disorder during my college years. I completed my degrees without too much fuss and went to work. As I inched towards my psychotic break at 25, my love of reading books and poems fell to the wayside as I dove headlong into the contemporary pop culture zeitgeist. It was 2016 and everything was politics, politics, politics. I spent more time on Twitter and Instagram than with books.

As my symptoms became overwhelming, I turned away from everything all texts, and in on myself. My screen time was about 20 minutes a day for years, a notable accomplishment for some but just proof I was checked out from the world of work and the daily tidal wave of text, photos, and videos on social media. I tried to read books, but the voices I hallucinated told me to stop reading. Stop reading novels, stop reading memoirs, stop reading poetry, stop reading the Bible. So I did. I would do anything to make the voices happy, to fawn in an attempt to make them a little kinder, to be the good girl I have always been again, the girl who never got in trouble. Who just wanted to read love poems and get in on this thing called love.

It has been a long journey of hospitalizations, psychiatry appointments, therapy, and medication. I started a new medication in April of 2023 and it has been life-changing. I can read again. I spend more time on my phone than I should but I relish the digital connection. I have begun to process my experience of prolonged psychosis and living in altered states through reconnecting with the written word. I got a new library card and get a thrill each time I bring new books home.

I have changed my relationship to the OG poets. Leading up to Valentine’s Day, I read Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. The text came alive like it never had before for me. Some people say Romeo and Juliet is a terrible love story because they are infatuated teens who die in the end. So be it. The balcony scene is the most romantic thing I have ever read. It spoke to my teenage self longing for my first kiss and my contemporary 32-year-old self longing for a love to end my wanderings.

In searching for resonance to my experience, I find myself drawn back and back to the poem “I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,” by Emily Dickinson.

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,

A Service, like a Drum -

Kept beating - beating - till I thought

My mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box

And creak across my Soul

With those same Boots of Lead, again,

Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,

And Being, but an Ear,

And I, and Silence, some strange Race,

Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down -

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing - then –

This poem encapsulates so much of my experience. I spent years with auditory hallucinations tormenting me from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed. It certainly felt like “a Plank in Reason, broke,” for I could not find a solid emotional or mental footing to launch into creative work or even basic daily tasks like showering or cooking. I started a new medication a year ago and it was like a new world opened up to me. I am no longer a slave to the voices in my head, though they still talk to me every day.

My hope for my life is that I can be “Finished knowing – then –” when all is said and done. I want to know I lived each day with my heart full of love and connected to my higher power. I want to spend the rest of my days in peace and comfort, being of service to those in need and a friend to everyone who I meet. I want to live in peace with the hallucinations, not in fear or anger, but a gentle acceptance. The numbness I have felt because of my illness has started to fade away and I can feel again. Not wild, extreme emotions, but gentle feelings guiding me as I navigate an often cruel and complex world.

It is spring and the flowers are in bloom. The temperature is like my mind, some days hot and some days cold. Sometimes hot and cold on the same day. I have learned to adjust to the conditions. I let it come. The good and the bad. The profound and the profane. I am grateful I am alive to see another spring. I feel myself coming back to myself. The doors to creativity that were shut during the worst of my symptoms have opened a crack and I am able to see the light. As I continue with my writing and my podcast, I step into the light and let myself shine.

My mental illness no longer controls me. It has been an adjustment. I need medication to stay steady and probably will need medication for the rest of my life. I used to see this as a failure. Now, I accept medication as a tool to help me fulfill my purpose on Earth. When I was first diagnosed with schizoaffective bipolar, it felt like a funeral. It felt like a part of me died, the normal and decent part of me, and I was a walking decaying corpse stinking up any room I entered. I felt hated and shameful, a scary crazy lady. Disability scares people. I think the world sees schizophrenia as terrifying. It certainly has been terrifying to experience. Yet I am not a scary person. I am gentle and kind, thankful for all my blessings and generous.

My mind may never be what it once was and that is okay. Now that I am stable on my medication, I like my mind better than ever before. I can meditate without a single thought or hallucination breaking through and do so every day. Meditation helps me connect with God and has been healing after years of constant mental intrusions. It helps me regulate my emotions and stay in a healthy range of feelings. I can read books and poems again and understand their symbols and metaphors. It feels so good to dive into words and stories and let them work on me. I am even working on writing my own book which should be done this summer.

Great art comes from great pain. I read about the lives of artists and they are often not happy stories. Tales of severe mental illness and substance abuse abound, yet those who struggled so intensely with their mental health also created some of humanity’s greatest works of art. If you read the stories closely, you will find this art was created during times of relative health and stability as part of the healing process from the acute periods of illness. I could not create during the worst of my illness. During this time of healing, I have been blessed to have a whole new world of expression open up to me. My creativity has a newfound depth and resonance because of my illness and the act of creation helps me as I move forward.

FINAL REMINDER: Stephanie from the Make Yourself Collective and I are hosting another event: an artist showcase for World Bipolar Day!

The event will take place live on Zoom at 5-7 pm EST on Saturday, March 30 (TOMORROW). Make sure to check your time zone to see what time this is for you!

You can find more details and tickets at the link below:

Tickets!

Just for fun, here’s a video by Kev G Mor, one of our concert performers. This is one of my favorite songs by him!

Make sure to subscribe to his YouTube channel for more.

You can view our full list of performers for the event below :)

Quick reminder: Stephanie from the Make Yourself Collective and I are hosting another event: an artist showcase for World Bipolar Day!

The event will take place live on Zoom at 5-7 pm EST on Saturday, March 30.

You can find more details and tickets at the link below:

Tix

Here’s a short performance by Jackson Riley, one of our five performers.

As World Bipolar Day approaches, I’ll be posting more short performances by our featured artists, so stay tuned.

Hope to see you there!

Chloe

Stephanie from the Make Yourself Collective and I are hosting another event: an artist showcase for World Bipolar Day!

The event will take place live on Zoom at 5-7 pm EST on Saturday, March 30.

You can find more details and tickets at the link below:

Tickets

Here’s a short introduction and performance by Andi Masaya Rivers, one of our five performers.

As World Bipolar Day approaches, I’ll be posting more short performances by our featured artists, so stay tuned.

Hope to see you there!

Chloe

The day of B. Russ’ concert is approaching, and we’re so excited to see you there!

Reminder: The concert will take place on Saturday, February 17 at 2 pm PST/5 pm EST, etc! (Make sure you check your time zone as I’d hate for anyone to miss it who signs up!)

If you haven’t ordered tickets yet, there’s still time.

Tickets!

Whether or not you can come, don’t forget to donate directly to B. Russ if you are able!

The Bipolar Creatives community is so strong, and the support you all have for one another truly warms my heart!

B. Russ has worked super hard putting together his set, and Stephanie from the Make Yourself Collective and I are really looking forward to seeing it! I hope you are too :)

If you’d like to perform in the open mic that will follow his performance, make sure to grab a “performer” ticket.

Thanks!

Chloe

Here’s another music video from B. Russ:

Concert tickets

Hi all,

There’s still time to grab tickets for B. Russ’s concert on February 17 at 5 pm EST (2 pm PST, etc)!

After his set, we’ll also be opening the floor for an open mic! If you’d like to perform in the open mic, purchase the “performer” ticket.

Whether or not you can make it, show your support by donating directly to B. Russ (see link above)!

As always, Stephanie from the Make Yourself Collective and I are so grateful for this community and excited for what’s to come!

:)

Chloe

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Hi all,

I’m happy to announce that Bipolar Creatives and The Make Yourself Collective are hosting our second Zoom concert, this time with B. Russ!

The concert will be on February 17 at 5 pm EST (2 pm PST, etc).

After his set, we’ll also be opening the floor for an open mic!

You can purchase tickets here:

Concert Tickets

And view a preview of his music here:

High Res Full Issue Bpc Mag

238MB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

Happy New Year! 💡

<3 Chloe

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Hi all,

Stephanie from The Make Yourself Collective and I are planning the next BPC x MYC concert! So, here’s our concert from last year with Kev G Mor in case you didn’t get a chance to watch it. Don’t forget to subscribe to his YouTube channel for more music and mental health advocacy!

Stay tuned for details about our upcoming concert.

Hope you all have a great weekend,

Chloe

Stephanie Eisler Vance is a writer, spoken word poet, educator, and mental health advocate based in Brooklyn, NY. In 2021, she founded The Make Yourself Collective (and MYC Kids,) which fosters creativity and artistic skill for all ages. In 2022, she published her debut poetry collection, MADE OF YOU, from Read or Green Books. She has performed her poetry on stages throughout New York City, including Housing Works Bookstore and the off-Broadway Triad Theater. Her prose has appeared in The New York Times and elsewhere. She has a degree in Cultural Anthropology from Duke University and just began a program in Expressive Arts Therapy. Her belief that art saves lives is literal. It has, in a very real sense, saved hers.

Stephanie's Book

How It Started

By Stephanie Eisler Vance

It all started with a hand

A hand on my hand

thumb tucked underneath, stroking my palm

I was wasted

in that liminal space between sleep and awake

slumped over in the back of the cab

he was just taking me home

I knew him well

Skateboarder pal down the dormitory hall

already spoken for

but always kicked it just the two of us

off to the side at parties

When I woke up

all I could think of was his hand on my hand

only after that night did I know

that tenderness

was available to me

It started with too many lines of cocaine

sideways glances

giggles over nothing

with my newly single friend 

a full year of my own personal will-they-won’t-they

my friends never told me to shut up

They should have

This cab ride at dawn was not tender

malfunctioning magnets 

neither repelling nor attracting

We danced around each other instead

embarrassing

and more than a little exciting

I needed him to love me

He did

but he preferred that love

at a distance

as many had and many would after him

I have never understood this

am I prettier from a distance 

the cracks not so visible?

The world more livable 

when you love something

broken and beautiful from 

way over there?

That is what we call a failure of imagination

mine can fill that distance

weave a road paved in golden wishes 

impossible conversations and deep kisses

This distance may protect you

you may think it protects me

but the invisible labor in traversing it turns these

hands to ash

lips into vipers

cracks already there 

groaning from the strain

This distance may protect you

It is destroying me

It all started with a full body shiver

my heart worn out from constant labor

a whole country away from what it needed

my brain commandeering the wheel

sometimes my mind has a mind of its own

And not just a road, it created a

u n i v e r s e

magic waiting in every corner of my world

an underdeveloped and overacted rom-com brought to life

it was all much too good to be true

but I had no reason to believe otherwise

I had no working definition for “manic delusion”

nor had I seen the new cracks

These new cracks didn't feel like cracks at all

they felt like healing

they felt like nothing could ever hurt me again

like distance, too, was a construct

and what is a construct in the face of limitless love?

I wanted to share what I had seen with everyone

most especially him

so I did

but he could not see it

why couldn’t he see it?

The cracks kept shifting, as cracks are wont to do

and just as suddenly as my world became brilliant

lighting changed

pain returned with double the force

distance spread like a weed

my brain whispering

what have I done?

It started with checking in to the psych ward

“fill out these forms”

as if I was capable of reading

“strip down so we can inspect you for bruises

self-inflicted or otherwise”

“have you taken any recreational drugs recently?”

“when was the last time you ate?”

“here's some orange juice”

It started with a diagnosis

Ten days of 

pacing hallways 

timid visitors

Ten days of 

zombifying drugs

timed smoke breaks

Ten minutes of sunshine if we are lucky

I did not know what “psychotic break” meant

I just knew it scared me

Piteous looks, sideways glances no longer for me 

but about me

“bipolar” is less scary than “schizophrenia,” right?

It started with a notebook

hospital-issue

making sense

not making any sense

cross-legged on the couch at the end of the hall

this pen my only reprieve from

the endless creep of each passing minute

Writing things the doctors didn’t want to hear

things I didn’t want to say

line by line excavating the cracks

the truth will set you free

literally

I hope

Something was churning

and then settling

and back again inside me

Is this what opening feels like

what healing feels like

what dying feels like

what moving forward feels like?

Is this something?

It started with my release

I described how I felt as 

“twitchy” and “delicate”

when I could find words

but what I really meant was

my being is rearranging itself in real-time

and I have to stand watch so it doesn’t get all fucked up

This life I fell in love with revealed to be a mirage

the world as it looked, suddenly flat

I didn’t talk to him anymore

or rather

he didn’t talk to me

With my mind’s universe disintegrating

my heart’s road with it

all I had was distance

and a notebook

What was true then is true now

I’m not terribly good at distance, or

distance is not terribly good for me

its siren call takes me when I have no will at all

makeshift prison disguised as safe harbor

without will the way is                                   away

But now, neurochemical jailbreak

I am back

I had gone away

but I am finally here

arrived

at the doorstep

of my shimmering fate

and I grab…

a handful of dead leaves

my fate has gone

leaving no footprints and taking no pictures

so I draw it from memory

which takes a long time

but it’s okay because I remember everything

I remember realizing I had bitten

my left ring fingernail to the nub

how uncomfortable my subconscious made me

I remember dancing around my bedroom

after our friendship ended 

immediately ready for what I was sure would come next

I remember the last time he called me “homegirl”

I remember when he told me he loved me 

then pretended he didn’t

I remember how many times I had to be told

“this is not about him”

before I would listen

how when I finally did

it didn’t change anything at all

If I keep starting the story

I never have to think about how it might end

one beginning bleeds into another

lessons learned, or not

cycles as comforting as they are vicious

I can continue to make the same mistakes

find myself in the same predicaments

the same hospitals

the same pain

I search before the beginning

I thought this mask would hold for far longer

I thought sadness was naivete

why didn’t I allow myself sadness?

I search anywhere but the end because

my psychiatrist says she doesn’t have a crystal ball

as if I was expecting her to

as if what I am now requires

the kind of foresight reserved for witches

If I keep starting the story

I do not have to move beyond it

beginnings do not require a crystal ball

“Write what you know,” they say

all I know is the beginning

I am only ever beginning

I keep going back to the beginning

and when I do

I am beginning

to move the starting line myself

a game of inches

I am beginning to make some sense

filling cracks with gold

or at least not ash

My definition of “self-care” goes beyond

face masks and bubble baths

because the strain is now the work itself

and beginning again

once a frustrating mess

is a blessing

The odds are not in my favor

Odds that would paralyze my mother

if she had the stomach to read them

but the odds

I think

reflect those who look at cracks

and see endings

a life or death Rorschach test

I cannot tell you I will always pass

For now, all I see are beginnings

I admit, it frustrates me sometimes

I do not have a crystal ball

But I do have this

pen and page and an urgent need to use them

isn’t that how all of this started?

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Masiel's website

I will start by introducing myself. My name is Masiel Bry and I am a mentally ill visual artist from the Bronx, New York City. Throughout the years creating art has been my therapy. It's given me something to look forward to. Being mentally ill is a chore of its own. I have to take medications I have to be on top of on a daily basis. I have bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, dermatillomania and obsessive compulsive disorder, so I am on A LOT of medications. It is my dream to open up my own art gallery but my journey as an artist hasn't been an easy one. 

      Having art in my life has given me something to look forward to, and something I can use to express myself. I love making fun vibrant eclectic art pieces. Making the actual art is awesome but my lack of sales and the fact I don't make any money as an artist has made me question my talent and honestly want to give up. I work so hard every single day and it feels like no matter what I do no one seems to care.

     Because I am literally starting from the bottom, I am the artist, the jewelry maker, the promoter, the merch creator, and I made the website from scratch and have to constantly keep it updated. At the moment I promote on tik tok, Youtube, Instagram and Facebook but despite how hard I work I haven't made any sales. It's hard to have such big dreams and work so hard day in and day out and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

     I hit a point where for my sanity I thought I should just move on and give up on my dreams. But I took a step back and realized how much I love art, and what a positive impact it has had on my mental health. It hasn't led to any profit yet, but it makes me happy. I will never give up!

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Hi Everyone,

This is a quick reminder about the open mic tomorrow at 5 pm EST/2 pm PST, etc.

Yet again, Bipolar Creatives will be co-hosting with Stephanie from the Make Yourself Collective!

Here’s the invite for anyone interested in attending!