MEDIA TEMPLE OUTGOING MAIL SERVER MAC MAC
That year we lost Avicii, Anthony Bourdain, Kate Spade, and of course, Mac Miller. The year 2018 marked a turning point in mental health-related deaths among celebrities. So, no matter how strong an individual may be, they can die of depression the same way they would of any other illness. In fact, a recent article in TIME pushes us to think of depression and addiction as sinister pandemics in and of themselves. His death was not a mental health failure-death by overdose or suicide never are. Mac Miller is reflective, introspective, and while his thoughts may get ahead of him sometimes, he uses each song to actively work through his demons and to get up another day to try again. Perhaps what’s most heartbreaking about revisiting his music is seeing the backbone of determination running through each album. Moreover, it provides listeners with a sample blueprint for their own self-expression. But, in describing his headscape in this detail, he allows the world to also witness the truth of his reality with an invisible health condition. In his vast range of music, we see confessional lyrics in the album Faces (2014) like, “My temple feel the metal comin’ out the Smith & Wesson, bang / Say a prayer, leave my brains on the tile floor." Those are dark words of suicidal ideation, which certainly warrant concern. As listeners, we can trust Mac Miller to be vulnerable and honest with us, allowing us, in turn, to look inwards and be honest with ourselves. His music is real and emotionally authentic. Miller’s music shows us all sides of this process. Meanwhile, there are other days that press us to keep going-whether by channeling our energy into art (as Mac Miller does), seeking therapy, or being among supportive friends. That means there will be some very difficult days when the brain fog and emptiness are overwhelming. He shows how mental health is a non-linear process-it’s erratic and wandering, not instantly cured, but rather managed. Much like the emotional cycles of hope and despair amid depression, Mac Miller’s music echoes the everyday reality of mental illness. As we see Mac Miller depleting his oxygen by lighting up a cigarette in a tightly enclosed coffin, we are reminded of the ways mental illness can mislead us to underestimate our ability to cope, our belief in ourselves, or how the world sees us.
Several lines within the song in fact allude to using drugs as a way of self-medicating-or rather, as the only outlet for self care that Miller knows. The pain is often too much to just will yourself into sobriety or a good mood. While both extremes are superficial at best, states of anxiety, panic, and depression can make it difficult to distinguish between things that feel good and things that are necessary for healing.
On the other hand, it’s about giving in to your indulgences-“treating yourself” often used as a justification for shopping in excess, eating fast food, sleeping in, and skipping that tedious day in the office. On the one hand, it implies facemasks, green juices, yoga, and massages. But Miller’s untimely death just months after the album’s release might lend a somewhat different analysis. Upon release, the single was initially interpreted as a song about doing the necessary work to maintain and balance good mental health, as the title obviously suggests. The chilling “Self Care” music video from the same album sees Miller rapping from inside a coffin while lighting up a cigarette and carving “Memento Mori” into the wood. As listeners, we are led through the wispy grey clouds and shattered sunlight of Mac Miller’s mind assuring us of progress and healing-however slow-punctuated spritely by the hopeful notes, “they told me it only gets better.”
and I was drownin’ but now I’m swimmin’ / through stressful waters to relief.” The lyrics, sung against a gentle, airy instrumental, evoke ennui and a languorous mental drift. “I just need a way out of my head / I’ll do anything for a way out of my head /. The opening song on that album, “ Come Back to Earth” sets the tone for the upcoming musing on life, death, pain, and redemption. In Swimming (2018), Miller’s final album before his passing, he gets gritty with his depictions of struggle and survival. The range of genres Mac Miller experimented with included jazz, rap, lo-fi beats, funk, and R&B- with music one could cry, make love, and dance to, it’s no wonder he remains so alive in our collective memories, even three years after his passing. So of course we all felt the heaviness of this loss. In a way, we could see parts of ourselves-the part that struggles, is insecure, but pines so hard for perfection-in him.
His vulnerability and existential musings were relatable to so many millennials questioning their place in the world, facing a future in flux while reinventing themselves in an ever-shifting economy stacked against them.
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