Trigger warning: suicide
February 27, 2019
I feel utterly unwell. My head is pounding, and I can’t seem to muster any interest in the shrimp pasta my partner prepared for dinner. All day, I’ve been teetering on the edge of tears. After picking up my six-year-old son from school, he excitedly asked if he could create a bomb using LEGO. I took a deep breath and calmly explained why making anything resembling a bomb is not a good idea. He got frustrated and shot back, “You’re not me! I can name it whatever I want!”
Depression shows up differently for everyone. For me, it feels like being crushed under an immense weight that I cannot escape, no matter how hard I try. A suffocating darkness surrounds me, blocking any glimmer of light. My face becomes a mask, and though I want to cry, I find myself unable to do so. It’s akin to how doctors use a tongue depressor to hold down your tongue so they can examine your throat—that’s how immobilized I feel. I’m not myself.
All I crave is to curl up in bed, drift off to sleep, and not wake up. Dark thoughts creep in: I consider sharp items, I contemplate swerving my car off the road, stepping into traffic, or using pills. I’ve crossed that line before, but then I remember my sweet boy and how devastated he would be without his mama. That thought pulls me back.
Living with bipolar disorder means I never know when the shadow of depression will descend. Seasonal changes often trigger it, but winter is particularly brutal. I yearn for summer’s warmth, those days filled with energy and creativity—working towards a purpose, needing less sleep, embracing a full spectrum of emotions. I savor those moments, fully aware they’re fleeting. What goes up must come down.
Whether I’m soaring or sinking, music is my lifeline.
I subscribe to Maria Popova’s Brain Pickings newsletters, which are rich with quotes, excerpts, and insights from influential thinkers and artists. In one newsletter, Popova shared Dr. Oliver Sacks’ reflections on how music helped him survive a difficult experience.
“I felt, with the first bars of the music, a hope… that life itself was music… that our living moving flesh, itself, was ‘solid’ music.” The sense of hopelessness lifted, and a feeling of renewal washed over me.
When depression hits, I need to channel my inner child and declare, “You’re not me! I get to name it whatever I want!” I must ignite the bomb of music within me to obliterate the darkness, allowing me to burst forth into light and joy. I want to sing again, to bring life to the notes on the page until the music elevates me from the abyss (or the “a-bisque,” as my son puts it).
I follow writer Amber Sparks on Twitter, where she once posed a question: “You have five minutes until the world ends; what do you want to go out listening to?” Without hesitation, I knew the answer: “Tear in Your Hand” by Tori Amos, a song that has resonated with me since my teenage years. Tonight, I’ll turn off the lights, close my eyes, and lose myself in the music. It’s all I can do right now.
January 5, 2021
Winter has returned, and we’re still in a pandemic. It’s dark by 5 PM. Last night, my son randomly asked my partner to whip up shrimp pasta for dinner, even though he now refuses to eat shrimp. I stayed quiet; after all, I’m not the one cooking. How can I complain? How can I explain how the aroma of lemon, butter, garlic, and seafood stirs up memories?
This Christmas, I treated myself to a weighted blanket, which offers a different kind of comfort than the suffocating grip of depression. I realized I needed it when I started popping out of bed early and cleaning my house like Monica Geller on an energy high. Also, my son has amassed enough LEGO pieces to construct the world’s largest bomb, which has certainly exploded across my living room floor. Those bits might just be the end of me.
Yesterday, I had a Zoom consultation with my psychiatrist. She advised me to ride the wave of my current surge in energy, reminding me that I know how to manage my highs and lows. Embrace the waves and enjoy the temporary organization and inspiration. One day, perhaps even tonight, my spark will dim again. But I reassured her that I know I’ll be alright, as I’m accustomed to living under that tongue depressor most of the time. I’ll be okay.
Tonight, though, I’m going to sit alone in my makeshift home office for as long as possible. I’ll listen to a new song my coworker recommended, “What I Needed” by Dark Dark Dark. I intend to feel every emotion. Soon, my partner will send my son down to fetch me for dinner. I just overheard it’s Taco Tuesday. Taking a deep breath, I realize I must be me. That’s all I can do.
If you or someone you know needs help, please visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, the SAMHSA National Helpline, or reach out to the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.
This article was originally published on Jan. 12, 2021.