oincidence is a funny thing. Found out a friend may have some health complications, and heard the song “How to Save a Life” by The Fray. (It’s on Youtube if you want to hear it.)

From what I gather, it’s a song about the friend left behind, when the other has committed suicide. They question if they could have saved them, had they acted differently.

I’ve found there’s a bit of a twisted beauty in sadness. Something about just letting yourself go, just embracing the fact that you’re sad, that things are bad. That acceptance can be… freeing. It takes a weight off you, it strips you of your denial, forces you to think… things aren’t okay. You embrace it, let it wash over you, and just… let it out.

We tend to try and deny sadness. Stay upbeat. Think things will get better, things could be worse, so on. Embracing sadness, maybe even grief (though I can’t really speak for that) is you being honest with yourself. It’s the raw, unfiltered truth, in all its beauty. Once you’ve embraced that, once you’ve taken on all it has to throw at you, and you’re still standing… that’s it.

There’s nothing else, and yet here you still are. Sure, you’re still sad, but you’ve gained something. Acceptance. With that acceptance comes a calm, which lets you take stock of the situation. Lets you do something about it. Reminds of the Litany Against Fear, actually.

To quote:

“I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see it’s path.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

You must be wondering where depression comes in, though. I’ve talked a bit about death, loads of sadness, but not much depression.

Well, depression can be described as a deep, heavy, pervasive kind of sadness. It kind of takes a big, heavy black blanket and just wraps it around you, covering you completely. You can’t see, can’t think, can’t feel. You’re cut off. Anxiety, when thrown into the mix, is like soaking the blanket with water. You can’t breath, can’t get out, panic sets in.

Getting out of that blanket can be very, very difficult. Sometimes people can get out and stay out on their own, some need the help of medication, some need therapy, some need other things.

But the thing is, the world outside the blanket is cold. It’s windy. It’s scary. That’s not to say it isn’t better. That’s not to say that it is. But it sure seems that way. The blanket though. The one you just left. It’s so warm. So nice, so inviting. You don’t have to think about the outside world. You can just enjoy the beautiful silence of sadness, and drift away.

The reason I don’t use the word grief, is because I feel that grief is too strong an emotion. Sadness slowly creeps on you, weighs you down. Grief will throw you against the wall, make you cry, make you feel.

Sadness brings a numbness with it. It’s that numbness which can seem so comforting, after the maelstrom of emotions that can be life. Like an animal which has lived in a cage being released into the wild.

Oh look, a penny!