Fuck It: On Accepting Depression

I’ve been listening a lot to a band called Car Seat Headrest because my friend Alex made me until Stockholm syndrome set in. One of their songs is called “Fill in the Blank.” You can watch it here. It’s great, there’s a synth solo and a maraca and everything.

It’s more or less about depression, but unless you paid attention to the lyrics or were familiar with the band, that might not be particularly apparent. It’s pretty upbeat — it’s actually its album’s opener — and sounds more motivational and energizing than anything else.

For the first ⅔ of the song, the chorus is this: You have no right to be depressed, you haven’t tried hard enough to like it / Haven’t seen enough of this world yet, but it hurts / Well, stop your whining, try again, no one wants to cause you pain / They’re just trying to let some air in, but you hold your breath

But then for the last go-around, it changes to this: I’ve got a right to be depressed, I’ve given every inch I have to fight it / I have seen too much of this world, yes, and it hurts / I will never see the light that I’ve seen shining in your eyes / You just want to see me naked, so I hold my breath

In this song, and probably in most songs similar to this, the first parts of the song feel like they’re about what’s being struggled with and what feels insurmountable, and then the climax of the song is the realization or the overcoming of said hurdle or celebratory or whatever. But here, the journey of the lyrics start at “Just keep going even when you’re down and you’ll find happiness” and end up at “Fuck it, that doesn’t work, I’m depressed.” Most of us probably interpret that as a descending path rather than the ascending path that it sounds like.

Thing is — have you ever been depressed? Of course you have, even dogs get depressed and they’re the best of us. Maybe some people embrace it pretty quickly, and maybe some people just try to muscle through it forever. And maybe a lot of people get through it that way. But something really insidious that seems unique to things like depression and anxiety is that they’re vague, gradual, and different for everyone. When you have a fever, you get concrete evidence confirming what you’re feeling. Depression? Not so much. It’s not on/off, it’s more, everyone has bad feelings so these are normal; I have these specific problems that I’m having trouble with, so they’re the source; I must not be living healthily enough and that’s why I’m out of it; I’m not trying enough things and that’s why I’m not looking forward to anything, etc. And those are all true. Etc. And etc. the next day. And etc. the next day. And they’re still all true. And etc. the next day.

You know how headphones get tangled in pockets? It’s not one single thing — they start in a nice loop, and then get bent this way, but the loop is still clear, and then gets bent under that way, and the loop is inverted, and then gets pulled out this way, and you can still trace the steps back to an untangled state but it’s no longer visible, and then it keeps going. Each of the steps are very simple, but the result is a tangle you don’t know where to start with. There’s a breaking point at which you give up trying to unspool it like normal and start the autopsy to work the knot out.

Is there some sort of honor in not quitting your untangling process, trying to muscle through it, especially in that stoic masculine kind of way? Sure. I think the intentions are good. It’s a fighting spirit. Maybe it’s natural. Maybe it’s faith. Or maybe it’s just a fear of vulnerability. But, if at the end of the day it’s about problem solving, trying to walk through a wall rather than changing course and finding a door is not admirable, it’s rolling a natural 1 on an intelligence check. It’s ok, it happens.

I don’t mean to get all chicken soup for the teen soul. Point is, it’s about understanding the reality of the situation, which I guess is to say honesty. And yeah, if we jump to “depression¯\_(ツ)_/¯” at the drop of a hat without trying to fix it, then maybe that’s premature and an excuse and avoidance. I don’t think most people do that, but I think a lot of people are scared of being perceived (or perceiving themselves) as doing that. And that keeps us from the crucial pivot yet another day.

But when we finally sit and take an honest inventory, maybe fueled by a rare dash of self-assurance, and realize we have done our damnedest and that dog just don’t hunt, that’s not giving up; it’s going to sleep after a 16-hour shift, it’s pulling over to stretch because your legs are numb, it’s calling a painting finished because it has to be finished at some point and frankly it looks pretty good. It’s an enormous and rejuvenating relief, and one you’ve come by honestly. It feels a lot like that Car Seat song.