Sadness, Sadness Everywhere

I doubt it comes as a surprise to anyone who has gotten to know me, but I identify as a sadboi. I think it serves me well in my career, but maybe even more so in my life. Seeing the Pixar movie “Inside Out” may have been the first time my connection to sadness really clicked for me mentally, but seeing the way that the core memories in that movie become tinged with sadness gave me a window into myself that I may not have found for quite some time. I find inspiration and progress in so many places in my life, to the point where I feel a sense of everything being interconnected, and I suppose in my mind that is indeed how the world really is. Unlike some people, I do not view sadness as inherently a bad thing. I know someone being sad is often considered a negative emotion, but I think that sadness is just as important as any of the feelings people are more likely to desire. I promise this will not all be focused on the Inside Out franchise (but I could do a solid 3k words on that in under an hour probably) although I do think as those movies show, the sadness sometimes is a way we can connect with other people, because we have shared those same experiences and hurts, or also just because we are a species capable of empathy (whether we practice that or not boils down to individual choice).

Sadness has, in many ways, been a constant companion for me in life. I have not grappled with depression, nor do I spend most of my days in tears. What I do find, though, is that there are topics I have run to rather than shied away from. I grew up an only child for basically ten years of my life, and by the time my sister was born, we were far enough apart in age that we never really were siblings who had the traditional sibling relationship. I felt closer to being a parent than a brother for a long time. Because of being an only child and because of who I was in my early years, I spent a great deal of time on my own. My childhood was not lacking, nor a terrible experience. I had tons of G.I. Joes and plenty of imagination that allowed me to create these wide-ranging battles that could span days at a time, telling a story just to myself. Plus, I was a voracious reader, and by the time I was in fifth grade had moved into reading adult bestsellers (starting with the book “Misery” by Stephen King). It was also around this time that I was doing a great deal of writing, short stories, poems, song lyrics, even just little sentences that tickled my brain. I remember writing something that was going to be lyrics for a song my band (none of us could yet play instruments, nor had any clue how to write songs) was putting together. Upon writing it, I was immensely proud of it and wanted to share it with my mom. So, in the middle of the day, I presented to her a lyric that said something to the effect of life just being part of the journey, but death being a beginning. Her response was more fearful and anxious, with her having concerns about my well-being. After assuring her I was fine, I don’t know that I ever shared another lyric or writing of any sort with her. There was a sense of sadness, of grief that something I had felt so strongly about had been received so poorly. I wondered if something was wrong with me and why people had a fear around death, because it just seemed to be a natural part of life, plus church had taught about life after death in heaven, so really, should I not have been optimistic about what comes next?

Now that I am older, I can understand my mom’s fears, although in some ways it felt like I could never share my creativity again, which felt stifling. It would take until I was in high school for another adult to make me feel good about writing and how my brain saw things. That was such a special time for me, because I had two wonderful teachers who covered all four years of my high school experience, and they made the written word a living, breathing thing. Hell, trying to read Shakespeare without Mrs. Buchanan or Mrs. Lovett there to guide the discussion was much less satisfying. My fascination with death and macabre things did not dissipate and probably intensified as I found bands and authors who explored those worlds more and more. I never felt a desire to be dead, nor did I want to observe tragedy or physical hurt, but reading about and exploring death and tragic circumstances were engrossing. I remember writing a short story (for fun!) in high school based on the song “Hollow” by Pantera, a song where the lyrics describe their friend in a coma and how they miss this person who is still alive in a sense in front of them. The song is filled with grief and expresses some of the very real feelings people experience with a loss like that. The story I wrote was as if from the viewpoint of the comatose friend, who could hear and feel, but not respond, and that feeling of being trapped inside themselves. I remember getting to share the story in front of the class, and there was no talking as I read it, and afterwards, a sort of stunned air in the room. I would like to believe I emotionally impacted a room of teen peers, but they probably all were like “what the hell is wrong with this kid?”.  That moment is still a vivid experience for me, because I could write whatever my weird little heart wanted to, and be encouraged even when it was sad or challenging material.

Of course, my taste in music has skewed towards sad songs, too. I am not saying I listen to the Smiths or anything (no shade, honestly I don;t know that I ever sought their music out) but so many of the songs I loved most either had a key that leant an air of sadness to them, or were talking about subject matter that was sad. I gravitated heavily towards songs about feeling alone and isolated, or that talked about loss. Yes, I did (and still do) enjoy a lot of emo bands, but I find I pick up more and more on the themes of sadness, in classical music, in metal music, or anything in between. My favorite artists have just a twinge of grief, regret, and sadness in many of their songs. It may not be in every song, but even in some of the more straightforward songs that are not inherently about a sad topic, I can pick up on the themes. To my mind, that is the bittersweet quality of life in general. We want everything to be sunshine, rainbows, and a sense of happiness all the time. But those moments are fleeting and situational. I prefer to sit and look at the enormity of the world beyond me, the unexplained, and my uncertainty of why I am here, what I am doing here, and how long I will be here, and just watch it unfold. I suppose for me, it is my version of attempting to live in the moment. It makes me think of Jason Isbell when he talks about “I don’t think on why I’m here or where it hurts, I’m just lucky to have the work” in “Something More Than Free”.  There is inherent sadness in that song and the story it tells, but that sadness also has some hope and optimism in the vein of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. When he spoke that “Darkness alone cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that”. The things we find scary or intimidating are often needed for us to get the whole picture. To me, sadness plays a vital role in that. Painting something with a twinge of sadness helps us understand the depth of the emotions that go into it.

There is an inevitability about sadness, grief, and death. We all will face them all in our time, and we could spend all of our days alive worrying and focusing on those, and trying to avoid them. Rather, for me, I like to have my eyes open and unblinking as I look ahead and see it all. I know when someone I love dies, it will hurt. It may wreck me, and I may not want to get out of bed, and that is okay. I have lost before, I have grieved before, and I know it will happen again, but if I spend all my energy being fearful of it, I will not get to truly live and enjoy my life. Instead, I will be held hostage by the fear of the inevitable sadness as it comes my way. Rather, I view things in that feels aligned with the lyrics on the last song of my favorite band, Ghost’s newest album. In “Excelsis,” they say:

Everybody leaves one day

I know it hurts

Everybody goes away

You will too, I will too

Come with me to the rainbow’s end

Come with me to the Holy Land

Come with me

You will too, I will too

This is the end of the avenue

I am afraid of eternity, too

I may not fully understand or have all the knowledge of how things will go in the future. I can admit that there is fear, but that fear does not prevent me from living, nor does it take up real estate in me other than to acknowledge the fear of the unknown. Sadness prepared me to embrace even the things that scare me.