One of the Biblical psalms begins with this text:
My heart is in anguish within me;
the terrors of death have fallen on me.
Fear and trembling have beset me;
horror has overwhelmed me.
I said, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.
Psalm 55:4-6
How often is our first instinct to run away from something that brings us pain? There’s a reason there are so many songs about running or getting away from someone or something. After awhile, it feels like a heavy burden to carry and you want nothing more than to escape. That’s why drugs and suicide are “easy” fixes to deep pain and suffering.
Sometimes our pain can feel so great, it’s like we’re chained to it and have to bend to its will. In the past few years, I’ve gone through what I’ll call The Sad Time. It’s not that I was sad all the time, but when I look back on that time in my life, I feel melancholy. But much of that sadness was self-inflicted. I dug myself into a hole and didn’t let myself out. I held the key to my own escape, but I chose to remain locked in.
During those times, I turned more and more into introspective music to help me cope. When I was sixteen, I was diagnosed with a clinical form of depression that made me introspective a lot. A lot of depression is being stuck or feeling lost. Oftentimes it feels like you can’t get out of the sadness you’re in, or you can’t navigate your way out.
Well guess what? There’s a song for that.
Day Thirteen: Bird of Sorrow – Glen Hansard
Glen Hansard, a well-known Irish folk singer and former frontman of The Swell Season, is known for his bluesy, gruff voice and relaxed sound. He’s probably best known for his film Once, which exploded on Broadway when it became a musical several years later. My exposure to that soundtrack helped me along toward my love for folk music. Glen Hansard’s sound reminds you of a seventies folk band like The Mamas and the Papas or The Carpenters, with a bit more of 21st Century sensibility.
While I love the music of Once, my favorite album of Hansard’s is Rhythm and Repose. It’s not your typical jaunty folk album. Rhythm and Repose reminds me of a warm but rainy day. It’s equal parts dark and passionate, invigorating and drowsy. It’s an unsettling lullaby in the same way a deep river is relaxing because its waters are a quiet burble.
“Bird of Sorrow” was the song that stuck out to me the most throughout the whole album. To me, Hansard is singing about being lost inside the sadness within yourself. It almost diagnoses depression to a T without being clinical or heady.
Even if a day feels too long
You feel like you can wait another one
You’re slowly givin’ up on everything
Love is gonna find you again
Hansard could be speaking hope to anyone. A friend, a sibling, a girlfriend, a wife. He’s addressing someone who is deeply hurting. Hansard has been quoted saying he thinks of Ireland every time he sings this song – a nation that has been through hell and back to become what it is today. It went through some pretty rough days as a country, and has only been independent for about 80 years. It’s still young, and it’s still hurting.
Tethered to a bird of sorrow
A voice that’s buried in the hollow
You’ve given over to self-decievin’
You’re prostrate, bowed, but not believin’
You’ve squandered more than you could borrow
You’ve bet your joys on all tomorrows
For the hope of some returnin’
While everything around ya’s burnin’
Hansard using the word “tethered” is unique. It’s not a word used often in songwriting. Why not “tied” or “bound?” “Tether” specifically means to tie something up in order to restrict movement.
If you’ve ever experienced an anxiety attack, you’ll know that it’s very hard to breathe. It’s hard to think. And it’s hard to move. You feel like you’re being held captive. Tethered to a bird of sorrow.
It’s also paralyzing in other ways. You don’t feel normal, and sometimes people notice and point it out. You feel like an anomaly, like everyone thinks you’re a freak. That makes it kind of hard to be in a relationship (or a friendship, or anything of that nature.)
Recently, I’ve finally find out what it’s like to be in a relationship where the other person understands my anxieties, and instead of turning a blind eye to them, he cares for me all the same. Relationships can sometimes worsen the affects of depression and anxiety – especially if you’re in the wrong one. (Believe me. I know.)
Come on, we gotta get out, get out of this mess we made
And still for all our talk, we’re both so afraid
Well will we leave this up to chance, like we do everything?
Love is gonna find us again
Love is gonna find us, we gotta be ready then
At its worst, depression can drive a stake into a relationship. My relationships have come to crossroads because of my depression, and some of them have gone the wrong way after that. It sounds like this relationship is at a crossroads too. Hansard is imploring the person he loves that they can work through this. And even if it’s going to take a long time, he makes a promise to her, which serves as the outro for the song: “I’m not leaving yet.”
It’s also the anthem of someone who wakes up and fights inside themselves every day. It may be tempting to check out – or worse. But every day they wake up and say, “I’m not leaving yet.” Because someday they know that they’ll be able to cut ties with their bird of sorrow, or maybe that tether will loosen.
So wherever you are in your journey with depression, even if you’ve never experienced it in your life much, it’s never worth abandoning yourself, your soul, or your relationships over. Listen to your introspective music, find bits of your soul there, but don’t leave it behind.
Because love will find you again.
a. w.
Audrey D. DeBoer 