Updated: Jan. 12, 2021
Originally Published: Jan. 12, 2021
Trigger warning: suicide
February 27, 2019
I feel utterly unwell. My head is pounding, and I have zero desire to eat the shrimp pasta my partner prepared for dinner. Tears have threatened to spill all day. When I picked up my six-year-old son from school, he excitedly asked if he could build a bomb out of LEGO. I calmly explained why creating something resembling a bomb is not a good idea. He became upset and retorted, “You’re not me! I can name it whatever I want!”
Depression shows up differently for each person. For me, it feels like an immense weight pinning me down, leaving me gasping for freedom. Darkness envelops me, obscuring my vision. My face becomes blank, and even though I long to cry, the tears won’t come. It’s akin to when a doctor uses a tongue depressor to hold down your tongue, preventing you from speaking or moving. That’s how depression feels—paralyzing. I am not myself.
All I desire is to curl up in bed, drift off to sleep, and never wake up. I contemplate various ways to escape. I consider sharp objects, veering my car into oncoming traffic, or overdosing on pills. I’ve attempted that before. Then, I think of my sweet son and how lost he would be without me. That thought stops me in my tracks.
With bipolar disorder, I can never predict when the clouds of depression will roll in. Seasonal changes often trigger it, but winter is particularly tough. I yearn for the warmth of summer—the times filled with energy and creativity, where I work tirelessly towards a goal, sleep less, and feel every emotion intensely. I savor those moments, fully aware they won’t last. The highs must eventually come down.
Whether I’m riding high or sinking low, music is my lifeline.
I subscribe to Maria Popova’s Brain Pickings newsletter, which is overflowing with inspiring quotes and thoughts from brilliant minds. In one edition, Popova shared Dr. Oliver Sacks’ account of how music helped him survive a traumatic experience. He described the initial notes of music as a beacon of hope, suggesting that life itself resonates with music, and that our very being is intertwined with it. In those first heavenly notes, hopelessness lifted, and renewal blossomed within him.
When depression engulfs me, I need to channel my inner child and declare, “You’re not me! I can name it whatever I want!” I must unleash the bomb of music within me to obliterate the shadows. I want to burst forth with light and creativity, to sing and animate the notes on the page until the chorus elevates me from the depths of despair (or the “a-bisque,” as my son calls it).
I follow writer Amber Sparks on Twitter, where she once posed a thought-provoking question: “You have five minutes until the world ends, and you can play anything on speaker or headphones. What will it be? Think fast.” Without hesitation, I knew my answer: “Tear in Your Hand” by Tori Amos. Tonight, I’ll dim the lights, close my eyes, and let the music wash over me. It’s all I can manage right now.
January 5, 2021
Winter has returned, and we’re in a pandemic. It’s dark by 5 PM. Last night, my son randomly asked my partner to prepare shrimp pasta for dinner, even though he now refuses to eat shrimp. I kept quiet because I’m not the one cooking. How can I complain? How can I convey how the aroma of lemon, butter, garlic, and seafood triggers memories?
This Christmas, I treated myself to a weighted blanket, which grounds me in a different way than the weight of depression. I realized I needed it when I began popping out of bed on time and cleaning my house with enthusiasm. As of Christmas, my son has amassed enough little pieces to create the world’s largest LEGO bomb, which has indeed exploded across my living room floor. Those tiny pieces might just be my undoing.
Yesterday, I had a Zoom meeting with my psychiatrist. She advised me to ride the wave of my current energy surge. She reminded me that I know what to do: embrace the highs and enjoy the inspiration while it lasts. Because soon, perhaps tonight, my spark will dim. I reassured her that I’d be okay, as I’m familiar with life under that tongue depressor. I’ll be fine.
Tonight, though, I plan to linger in my makeshift office for as long as I can. I’ll listen to a new song my coworker recommended: “What I Needed” by Dark Dark Dark. I’m going to embrace all the emotions. Soon, my partner will send my son to fetch me for dinner. I just overheard it’s Taco Tuesday. I take a deep breath. I must be myself. It’s all I can do.
If you or someone you know is in need of help, please visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline or the SAMHSA National Helpline, or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.
This article was originally published on Jan. 12, 2021.
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Summary:
This deeply personal account explores the struggles of living with depression and bipolar disorder. The author describes how these conditions manifest in her life, detailing moments of despair and the fleeting joy of creative energy. Music serves as a vital source of solace and connection, highlighting its ability to uplift and inspire during dark times. As she navigates the challenges of parenting and mental health, she emphasizes the importance of self-acceptance and the need to embrace both highs and lows.
Keyphrase: Coping with depression and bipolar disorder
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