Fuck, man.
The low. It feels like falling through rock bottom in a free fall. Like - I thought my life couldn’t get any worse? And then you’re lower still.
It is a depth of “black” you didn’t know you could experience. You feel lost in your sadness, in your pain, in your despair, in your agony.
There is an emotion this song touches that feels like an echo in the darkness. Like someone understands, like maybe you aren’t alone.
Because there’s something desperately hollow about feeling like we’ve somehow “glitched the system”. Like we are experiencing this pain no one else has ever experienced. Like we have been forgotten, lost to the world, permanently and hopelessly alone.
And songs like this give us an echo of someone who has experienced this too.
That’s the weird thing is that perhaps the “blackness” of our pain is less about a reality of being truly alone and more of the idea of being BLINDED to the reality that we may be falling, but there are others in this “underside” with us.
I myself have been in that place. Falling into pain I never thought I could get out of. That feeling brought me to the point of suicidality as well. It’s hard to believe I could ever come back from that. I couldn’t bear the idea of existing in this free-float where all I know is this swallowing despair. Horrifying.
But we can connect over this pain. We can remind each other - brother, I’m falling too. Maybe there is hope. Maybe we are not alone. Maybe we can find a way to land. To try this again. Together.
That is why you posting here is so beautiful. You’ve opened up to that possibility. You’ve said - maybe I can be known. Maybe I’m not alone here. Maybe I can find my way through with others.
I love that your dog rescued you in that moment. It is a symbol. A symbol that your life means something. That maybe you can be found. That maybe you can love again.
Hope is a potent counter to the black.
It is a light that shines that renews our strength.
You deserve that light, friend.
-nate, heartsupport staff