Social anxiety in live music can be a challenge. Support your scene, but not at the expense of your own mental health.
This article written by Sarah Williams is part of our #MentallySound series, discussing mental health in music. Trigger warning: anxiety.
Today, my anxiety has anxiety. I am experiencing my own personal apocalypse.
I am entirely aware that the visions of catastrophe in my head are irrational, imagined and impossible (or at least implausible), but they’re there nonetheless. A cacophony of intrusive thoughts, false assumptions and self-criticism rattle round my hollow skull, a jarring, overwhelming rush.
Counting to ten isn’t helping. Telling myself I’m being illogical isn’t helping. Distracting myself isn’t helping. Self-care sounds like a waste of time, when I’ve got so much work to do. I need to just sit, ride this wave out and hope it doesn’t ruin my evening.
I’m going to a gig. I love gigs. I love live music more than anything else.
I desperately do not want to go.
I’m lying facedown on my bed, trying to muster the courage to put a jacket on and locate my house keys. Everything is impossible.
Continue reading “Why I’m Not Coming To Your Gig Tonight”
Sober punk Jon Turner shares the story of Petrol Bastard, and why you don’t need to be drunk to be punk.
Guest article by Jonathan Turner, chief of the excellent SoberPunks blog. This is part of our #MentallySound series, discussing mental health in music.
Somewhere back in August 2015 there was a standard weekend happening for me. Standard in that it had become the norm ever since the birth of Petrol Bastard in a Huddersfield pub in 2012; a crazy techno-punk band borne of a manifesto drunkenly written up between me and my bandmate Ben:
- Fast music only
- Live recordings only
- Repetitive lyrics so they’re easy to learn
- Tons of swearing
- Never write or record sober
- Never gig sober
- Never do anything sober
We both enjoyed some pretty hardcore drinking already, but this new set of rules made boozing the absolute centre of everything we did as a band. This was gunna be a crazy ride; a band BY the drinkers, FOR the drinkers. Songs about being drunk, written whilst drunk, and performed whilst drunk. WE ARE PROFESSIONAL ARTISTS AND WE REQUIRE BOOZE TO OPERATE. Continue reading “Booze, Music & Saving Your Sanity”
Diabetes, heartbreak and depression have changed the life of Marie from Punk Rock Avenue in 2018, but she’s brave enough to share the tale.
Guest post written by Marie-Line Cyr, who runs the fabulous French-Canadian blog Punk Rock Avenue. This is part of our #MentallySound series, discussing mental health in music.
Last year, when I was thinking about my 35th birthday, I pictured myself on Vancouver Island. My plan was to drive across Canada all by myself and celebrate my birthday by the Pacific Ocean. Actually, I celebrated my 35th birthday last September alone and crying on the couch, with a dead pancreas and a broken heart. Here’s the story of my downward slide to the bottom.
2018 has been the worse year of my life. I started having health problems on January 4th. Something wrong in my right eye directly linked to an immune system disorder. Which disorder? Nobody had a clue. I was so scared of what they would find. Finally, they found nothing but prediabetes. So I stopped eating sugar and crap and took care of my health. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to stop the disease. I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in June. That’s when I started being super sick and had to stop working. I was so weak and tired and I was literally melting while doing nothing at home. There was something wrong. My blood sugar became so high that I spent a couple of nights on the verge of a diabetic coma. I was going to bed at night so scared of not waking up the morning after. It became obvious that I needed insulin and that I was in fact a type 1 diabetic.
I started insulin on July 18th and I will always remember that day. I was in my bathroom, staring at the needle while being too scared to put it in my belly. But I knew I had to do it to stay alive. Just like I knew I would have to do it for the rest of my life. My pancreas was dead and I had no choice but to do its job to survive. So I played Survive from Main Line 10 on Spotify, my diabetes anthem as I call this song, and put the freaking needle in my belly. My diabetic life had just started. Continue reading “A Dead Pancreas & A Broken Heart”
LITFO’s Jimmy Carroll explains how getting onstaged helped him overcome social anxiety and shyness.
Guest post written by Jimmy Carroll, bassist in Laughing In The Face Of. This is part of our #MentallySound series, discussing mental health in music.
I was a painfully shy child. Other kids who had never met before seemed to be able to integrate with each other in a way I would never understand, only observe.
It wasn’t without trying or effort, I just couldn’t seem to summon up the courage to simply say ‘hello’.
In my mind at the time the prospect of rejection or even worse, all out mockery was too terrifying a prospect to entertain.
This isn’t to say I was friendless or a total loner as a kid but I would never make the first move in an interaction of any kind.
Fast forward to my early teens and this social anxiety was supplemented by a broader type. All the ‘what if’s and over-analyzing every single aspect of the most trivial things led me to my first panic attack (which at the time I was convinced was a full blown heart attack) and left me fucked up for about a week in the aftermath.
I think a big part of it was unfounded paranoia. Are they looking at me? Why are they looking at me? Are they talking about me? Why are they talking about me? Continue reading “The Monster’s Teeth Aren’t As Big As You Imagine”
Reaching out to your friends is hard, but we’re all going through this together.
Written by Sarah Williams. Part of our #MentallySound series, discussing mental health in music. Trigger warning: depression, self-harm.
During an especially dark and turbulent bout of depression I endured recently, I found a familiar Iron Chic lyric rumbling round my skull:
“We all fall apart at our own pace.”
That one cadence repeating itself over and over; an old, beloved song suddenly taking on new meaning. I was wrapped up in my own personal apocalypse, but that one line reminded me of the importance of reaching out to my friends.
For me, depression comes in waves. Some days the sea’s calm and I’m stood on a beach in the sunshine, digging a moat around my sandcastle and enjoying a Calippo. Other days there’s a light ebb and flow, lapping round my ankles. Sometimes it’s choppy in the waves but my head’s above water, I’m staying afloat.
In this particular period, it was like a tsunami had hit. I’m toppled by giant waves, levelled by the force of it, choking on salt water, crushed by the weight of it on my chest. This is as bad as it gets: I can’t eat, I can’t speak, I can’t get out of bed, I can’t wait to get the courage to kill myself.
Sometimes depression just feels like a part of regular life, like an itch you can’t scratch but you can just about ignore it. But on these occasions, it becomes frighteningly apparent that it’s an illness. It’s utterly, hopelessly debilitating.
I lie still and wait for it to pass. It takes days. Continue reading “We All Fall Apart At Our Own Pace”