When I last wrote for The Breakdown, I alluded to a depressive episode from the previous summer, which I very nearly didn’t make it out of. To be totally frank with you, I attempted to take my own life. I exist today because my girlfriend realised what was about to happen, followed me to where it was about to happen, and stopped me.
In the weeks that followed, I longed for words to explain to my girlfriend how the depression and anxiety which had been steadily taking chunks out of me since I was a teenager, had rapidly mutated into something that threatened to swallow me up in my entirety. I fucking love words, but I couldn’t grasp the ones I needed to describe the detachment I felt on that day, nor the ones I wanted to express how grateful I was that she saved me.
And then Mac Miller dropped what turned out to be his final album, Swimming.
I often wonder where I’d be without music. I’ve been hooked on Hip Hop and Rap from the day I heard the late, great Notorious B.I.G’s silky verse on 112’s ‘Only You’ remix. Now, that’s probably a very obscure reference for a lot of readers. YouTube it and thank me later.
As I grew up, and began to struggle with my mental health, my love of music became just as much about retreating to a place of comfort and relief, as it was about pure enjoyment and vibes. It became a source from which I could draw strength too; if everything became overwhelming, to the point where I couldn’t face the world, a dose of Pusha T’s braggadocios, extravagant coke-rap in my headphones had me feeling indestructible again.
I really appreciate hearing growth in an artist as their releases stack up, be it sonic growth, or thematic growth. Mac Miller’s music embodied both, beautifully developing into unashamedly honest, introspective meditations on addiction and recovery, fame, love and mental health. If I needed a way to describe how I was feeling, Mac always had my back. He was depressed, like I was. He used drugs to manage his pain, like I did. His music made me feel less alone.
In the aftermath of my suicide attempt, as I slowly pieced myself back together, my girlfriend planned an escape for us. We were going to get out of the Big Smoke and bask in the comparative silence of the Devon countryside. My home life is a significant contributing factor to my struggles, and her escape plan made me very happy. But anxiety still lingered over the conversation I wanted to have. I listened to Swimming alone in my room. Like I knew he would, Mac had my back.
Swimming is a beautiful album, ultimately about self-acceptance. It’s about accepting that we’re imperfect, and accepting that healing is not simply a destination, but a journey. As Mac says …
And I was drowning, but now I’m swimming
Through stressful waters to relief
So, about two-thirds through our mega-long drive to Devon, when the excitable, rapid fire, pre-holiday conversation of two people who love each other deeply began to settle a little, I asked my girlfriend if she wanted to listen to Mac Miller’s new album. She did. The opening track’s dreamy, warm vocals wrapped around us and I could tell she was very much sold on the sound by her contemplative silence.
We were surrounded by rolling green hills, beneath a glowing blue sky when the tender piano chords of the album’s penultimate track, ‘2009’, began to play. This was what I’d been waiting for. How do you find the words to thank someone for saving your life, and for continuing to save your life by the pure comfort of their presence? I needed Mac’s help …
Well, the light was dim in this life of sin
Now every day I wake up and breathe
I don’t have it all but that’s alright with me
The light was slowly, surely getting brighter now. I was breathing because of her. I was confident I’d see the other side of August now. Tears fell into my lap as I looked out towards the next turn in the road. I didn’t try to hide them. She knew now, how thankful I was. The hand she placed on my thigh told me that she knew. We approached the turn off for our hideaway. ‘Keep driving she said, let’s listen again. I love you.’
Rest in Peace Mac Miller and thank you for everything.