By John Barthlow
Disclaimer: Topics of Suicide, Depression and Death
Empty backroad, Aldie, VA. Friday Jul. 17, 2026. (Radio 1190/John Barthlow)
I have struggled with mental illness my whole life and should have died by suicide in January of 2024. During darker seasons like that one, I spent a lot of time driving down backroads nestled deep in the woods. I would listen to music or drive in silence while observing the sea of trees around me, but I never really looked or listened intently. Back then it felt as if I were observing life through a thick glass that color couldn’t penetrate, and my thoughts were marred by hopelessness and a seemingly unconquerable sadness. More often than not, I drove down these roads at night, but on this particular day I started driving at golden hour. As I rounded a bend in the road I looked up at the sky and stared into the clouds. I began admiring how beautifully the sun painted them, and how lovely the music sounded. I’d heard “Unmade” by Thom Yorke many times before, but the lyrics “I swear there’s nothing, come under my wings,” clung to me.
I got in the car that evening to settle my mind so that I could think clearly. That day I was losing hope—for weeks I’d been wondering to myself if life was worth it. A lot of me felt bereft, and I hadn’t felt joy for a while. As I looked to the sky and listened to the music, I felt a sense of peace and an almost-euphoria. At that moment, I made up my mind. I decided that it was time to let go. I was sick and didn’t think that even small moments of happiness were worth it. When I looked to the future, all I saw was the darkness that laid ahead, not the light that could shine through. I was tired of myself and my life, and I thought the only option I had left was to die.
The thought of suicide was often in the back of my mind, and a handful of times it consumed me. I’m a lucky person, and unfathomably grateful that I was able to receive help, have friends and family by my side, and have another chance at life. I don’t want to sugarcoat suicide or mental illness—seeing or experiencing either is not always pleasant. It has the potential to destroy the lives of those still living and has taken the lives of people that I’ve known.
I don’t remember the exact date I got the news, but I remember it was a sunny day during a school week. I just got done for the day and was scrolling through Instagram. I checked a friend’s story and found out that our mutual friend had died. I couldn’t understand why no one told me directly and I didn’t know how to react. I got in my car, turned on some music and started driving. Soon thereafter, I began sobbing so uncontrollably that I almost got into a car accident and pulled over. Now every time I hear the song “93 ‘til Infinity” by Souls of Mischief, I remember my friend and that moment of confusion, anger and sadness.
Every time I see police lights, I’m transported back to the side of the road, when I had to watch an officer tell my parents I tried to kill myself. I remember how they broke down into tears, how my dad punched his car in frustration, how they swerved as they drove me to the hospital, and I remember how suffocating the silence was, even though they cried the whole way there.
To this day, I’m still affected by the feelings and events of my past. These things do not just go away because September is over, but I do not want to detract from the importance of this month and the continuation of seemingly redundant things, like saying “you are loved” or “call 988.” Every bit of awareness, support, kindness and compassion will always be important and can help more than you know. But I would be remiss to say I have answers for everyone who is struggling; though I wish I did. All I have is an ear to lend, and perspective to give.
The nastier bits of my life are past me, and honestly, now that I’m on the other side of them, it feels strange and sometimes isolating. Nevertheless, I’m grateful for what I’ve been through; I’ve come to believe that you can’t appreciate the stars if the sky isn’t dark. That is not to say that the darkness is always easy to bear, and the stars are always plain to see; but it’s nice knowing that they’re around, no matter what.
Sky Meadows State Park, Delaplane, VA. Monday Jul. 13, 2026. (Radio 1190/John Barthlow)