Thank You Portlandia

People have claimed art has saved their life for as long as there has been art. I don’t know if that’s actually true. It seems plausible. I can see someone sitting in a cave thinking, “I’ll just stare at this stick figure throwing a spear and everything will be cool.” Today it might be a podcast or television show. Dig through your favorite fandom online and you’ll find testimonials detailing how a favorite show or music carried someone through a difficult time. I am a voracious consumer of pop culture in all forms and call many fandoms home. You can also count me among the people who will claim art saved their life. I didn’t plan it or go looking for a silver bullet. Instead the television show Portlandia found me and it carried me through some pretty dark days. I owe a debt of gratitude to everyone who made the show possible and that’s why I’m writing.

Depression is a motherfucker and it brought me to my knees. At my lowest point last year, all I could do was wake up and then lay on the floor all day. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes talking to Larry, sometimes crying, sometimes all at once and always hoping my family didn’t find me. I needed to be as close to the earth as possible so that I could lay there and hang on tight. I needed to be flat. My diet consisted of yogurt, bananas and green tea. I had created a pretty sweet little set-up under my sit-stand desk that was intended as a space to read and nap. In a plot-twist the reading nook became a cave and I became Colonel Kurtz. Instead of Dennis Hopper on acid, my cave had Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen on free TV Plus 24/7.

Each day in the morning I moved from our bedroom to my cave and that’s where I stayed. Sometimes standing at my desk but lying on the floor predominantly. The pets absolutely loved Floor Jay. Larry seldom left my side and the rest of the herd made their way through periodically. I laid there not watching the television but rather hearing the sound while I zoned in and out of the fog. I needed my senses to contemplate my existence but I also needed some background noise that wouldn’t inevitably become sad music. It had to be something agreeable with my mental state (nothing sad) that I could half-listen to for hours. Turn it on and rip the knob off. Scrolling through free TV Plus listings one day, I found an all-Portlandia channel. I had binge-watched Portlandia years ago when I was interviewing for jobs in Portland. Immediately I knew I found my depression cave soundtrack.?

One hundred percent of what takes place on Portlandia is agreeable with my mental health. The theme music is soothing and I absolutely love the IFC bumper they use with commercials. Every so often there’s an unusually long commercial break with more time than commercials. When that happens the bumper plays on a loop. The sound of that bumper has been seared in my memory. When I hear it I can remember laying on the floor watching cats and dogs as they changed spots. Staring at dust in sun beams in a trance trying to understand what was happening in my life. Portlandia was, or is the blanket I pull on to make wakefulness bearable.?

I have to laugh when I consider the role a half-hour sketch comedy show has played in my journey. In full disclosure, memories from this period of time are still very raw. I’ve been reflecting out loud on the role the show played in keeping me afloat lately. It’s clear my family does not yet want to talk about my floor dwelling days and I understand. It hurts knowing some other family is posted-up in the house we built. That’s why I have to write it out of my system in order to move forward. I can’t wait until I’m ready because that’s how you end up carrying a lifetime of nonsense. I still leave Portlandia on the TV all the time. I still need the mental wooby. Thank you Carrie Brownstein, Fred Armisen and everyone who made the show a reality. The thing you created really, really helped me.

#mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #portlandia #portland #IFC