I' m going to go back some now, back to when I was at my most end it all a few years back. When I had fell on black days. Or black day. That day is detailed somewhat in a post from around late Feb 2014. The below is something that details what kept me safe and I submitted it to The Mighty. It wasn't used but hey-ho.
Here it is for all two of you to read :)
The day had started off well enough and with good intentions but by the end of it I was struggling to stay safe. I was out of bed early as I’d had plans for a long day. Starting with breakfast it was then going to be out to the gym and then lectures. It had started off well with the getting up early but ended there. This much became clear as I ate my way through breakfast and found that I was worn and tired despite the sleep that I had had. I kept looking at the clock putting off leaving, knowing that a workout was going to be beyond me. In fact, I was starting to realise everything that day would be beyond me that day. As I did so anxiety began to rouse itself and I realised that I wasn’t going anywhere. When I realised that I would have to let my Tutors know the anxiety began to bubble up. It quickly let me know what a let down I was being and got me wondering what would they all think of me, would it mean the end of my course because of me letting people down, what would I say to them when I eventfully saw them again? on and on it went. It was the only time I didn’t feel tired, the anxiety pushing through the listlessness to torment me. So, back to bed I went feeling empty and a complete let down. Anxiety and depression would be my only bedfellows that day and that always meant I would in a dangerous state. Dangerous to myself because when inhabiting this mentality I feel trapped with no visible escape. It consumes me, convincing me that it will always be this way, stuck in bed, useless to myself, useless to anyone and shouldn’t I really just…. Well, you get the point.
Text sent, phone off and me in bed, eating little and drifting in and out of an uncomfortable slumber feeling unable to even stare at the tv I felt that bad. So I did what I could only do and had done before when feeling internally destructive and worn. Put on my earphones and plugged in to music. Music has been the soundtrack to my life and it’s subsequent activities. It has helped me sleep, it has helped me exercise and, around that time, it had soothed when I was feeling horrible. When the noise of everyday life and my mental conditions get the better of me music keeps helps shut it out, whether it be the joyous melodies of the Dropkick Murphys and Abba or the loud abrasive growls of Amon Amarth and/or the atmospheric soundtracks of Nine Inch Nails. One album though reached out to me that day. The Manic Street Preachers, This is my Truth Tell Me Yours, was an album that I felt connected to.
I had really gotten into it (by really gotten into it I mean listening to it everyday and feeling kinda empty if I didn’t) about a year earlier and as I did each song would open itself up to me and I would feel directly plugged into its mood and meaning. The lyrics seemed to grasp what it meant to have depression, taking medication and well, my current mood and mental illness in general. Songs about the black dog, lyrics mentioning not working as a person, drifting away, feeling tender and tired it was the only soundtrack for me that day as I tried desperately to keep suicidal thoughts from overtaking and overwhelming me.
As I kept the album on rotation that day it worked. It kept me distracted and made me feel as though I had a comforting partner who got exactly what I was going through. It was enough to keep me safe. Not long after that I was back at the Doctors but for that time, that day that I was in a deep depressive funk that music was like cool glass of water to a dried out sponge. It was an aural comfort blanket that kept me calm and safe and I’ll always be thankfully to the band for that even though they will never know.