SONG SUNG BLUE: When Love Isn’t Enough to Stop Depression …

Claire has Mike’s love. A lot of it. In Craig Brewer’s fictionalized Song Sung Blue. But sometimes love is not enough to rise out of a severe depression caused by major trauma, trauma that’s piled on top of an old one. Sometimes it takes a specialized kind of help, talk therapy, to find yourself again. Because if you’re like Claire (and Mike too), you feel like you “should” do it yourself. And, doing it yourself comes out of old trauma, making you feel that you’re all alone and can’t ask for help. Because no one was there. Not in the trenches. Not your mom.

Not Believing in Yourself 

Claire (Kate Hudson) sings Patsy Cline like nobody’s business. Belts it out. She’s really stellar! But she’s also a hairdresser (and a mom of 2) to make ends meet. Her mom (a rather grumpy, sourpuss lady) lives with her. She tells Mike (Hugh Jackman), “I wish I could say she wasn’t so grouchy during the day, but I’d be lying.” Her mom’s negative too. Especially towards Claire. About her talent. Aspirations. And her choice in men. How can you believe in yourself with a mom like that?

Or such an ex-husband, A “good guy”, she tells Mike, but he made her feel small as soon as she started booking gigs. That’s poison for a woman who has to fight that same voice inside her head.

What does it take to start believing in herself? Someone who loves Claire for who she is. That’s Mike. He sees her in a way her mom never has. He’s wowed! There she is, singing Patsy Cline: “I’m just hoping after midnight, you might be somewhere, searching for me.” Yes. That’s Mike. Because after the applause ends, he’s “just another drunk.” And. He’s looking for love, too.

Mike’s different than her ex: “With my wife, I was the one making her feel small. I was selfish. I was angry. I was wrong. But I’m here, you know, trying to be better.” Claire says: “Aren’t we all?” 

Finding Unexpected Love  

So, they fall in love, Claire and Mike. They form a Neil Diamond “experience,” a tribute duo. His lyrics speak to their needs, desires, and pain: “You are the sun. I am the moon. You are the words. I am the tune. Play me.” Mike names them “Lightning (his moniker) and Thunder.” Buddy Holly’s song plays in the background: ‘Going faster than a roller coaster ... love like yours will surely come my way. Hey. Hey.” And, it does. Fast. For both of them. Unexpected. Needed. Cherished. Love.

When love hurts you as a child. Later love too. You don’t expect love so pure and good. They merge their families. The kids are leery at first. Mike’s daughter Angelina (King Princess) breaks the ice with Claire’s reluctant and all-too-responsible daughter, Rachel (Ella Anderson). They hit it off. Become the sisters neither ever had. Dana (Hudson Hensley), Claire’s son, isn’t so removed. He’s hungry for a man in his life, a father he doesn’t have. They’re all drawn into the love. It’s contagious. The first time Claire and Mike sing, “Crunchy Granola Sweet,” in Mike’s garage, with the whole band, their chemistry is charged. Dana rocks out. Even the grouchy neighbor grooves.

They all need love in Song Sung Blue. And. Hope. Life’s been hard. Too many losses. Too much disappointment. In: Past marriages. The trauma of war. With a mom. Losses like that close you down. Teach you not to hope. To just make do. Rely only on yourself. You get depressed. Sure. But. You go on. Yet, now, Mike and Claire, the kids, the band, feel like things just might get better.

 All is Going Great! (Until...) 

And, things do. Claire and Mike get married. Mike listens. Claire won’t let herself feel small. She speaks up. Won’t let him control the show. She says, “Yes, yes, to everything, except for one thing. We open with Sweet Caroline.” He says, “I do.” Even though he had demanded Soolaimon, love means: Compromise. Sometimes giving in. Not being controlling. Listening. To what is needed most. Not overshadowing. Not shutting the other out. Playing that music of feelings. Together.

Lightning and Thunder are a big success. Screaming crowds celebrate their shows. A Neil Diamond tribute band that Milwaukie can’t get enough of: “I love Lightning and Thunder. They are my fave!” Claire and Mike fly. High. Even Eddie Vedder books them to open for Pearl Jam (who’s that?! Rachel and Angelina know!) And, Eddie himself? He’s right there singing along with them.

Yes. Claire and Mike suffered. They’ve been hurt. But now?

It seems that nothing will stop them.

“And when I hurt ... Hurt just runs off my shoulders. How can I hurt when holding you?” Yes. The good times have never seemed so good. But sometimes the old hurt takes you over. Because bad things can happen. And, when they do, the shadow of a sour mom is right behind you. The one who makes you feel small and wrong. And, when that bad thing comes. It knocks you down. Hard.

Just like the car. That comes out of nowhere. Just when you’re planting beautiful flowers in front of your house. Flowers that spell happiness. And that car? It runs right over you. Changing it all.  

Being Hit with Depression 

Love does mean not shutting the other out. If you can help it. BUT. Depression has another idea. It closes you down. That’s because you’re fighting so hard not to feel the things you’ve tried so hard to push aside. Like feeling small. Unwanted. Ugly. Useless. Weak. And. Now. Those feelings are too close by. The smallness. The shame. About not being able to do everything you used to.  

Like dance. You can’t dance without your foot and part of your leg.  What does Claire do with that? Dance is a big part of singing and performing with Mike. Moving to the music. Being free. And. When you can’t, that can make you fall into a terrible depression, in Song Sung Blue.

The doctor tells her it will take time to make adjustments: “I know. I know. I don’t want to dwell on it. I just want to make those adjustments and move on ...” But. Moving on right past it. Along with all of your feelings. That’s a trauma response. And. It doesn’t work. You can’t “just” move on. But Claire tries. Tries hard not to feel what she feels. “Me and Mike started singing, and we were really cooking. And I could see it as a way to pay my bills and to be able to say, ‘Look at me, I made it!” She’s desperately searching for something to hold onto. Not to crash. But all the doctor says is (while handing her a prescription): “Take one every 3 to 4 hours for the phantom pains.”

Yet, other phantom pains are close behind. Those feelings she tries to block out. “I was so close ... Yeah. Thanks, Doc.” Claire’s always had to keep a stiff upper lip. Her spoil-sport mom isn’t easy to overcome. And now? Those old hurts start to take her down. She can’t get out of bed. AND. The voice of depression says, “... you see your dreams die a slow death ... Most of the time, you’ll just mess up, so it’s better not to try. You’re just looking for some hope. But ... hope’s not enough.”

That voice can drag you under. Make you stay in bed. 

That voice can convince you to just give up.

When Love Isn’t Enough 

Mike tries. Hard. Rachel tries too. But. Claire won’t get up for physical therapy.  She can’t face the prosthetic leg. Can’t face her losses. She’s angry. At everyone. The world. Fate. Her helplessness.

Claire’s always had to soldier on. Be tough. Fighting those feelings of smallness. Now. She feels small again. Worthless. Filled with self-hate. Fighting everyone who tries to help. Consumed with jealousy at Mike being able-bodied, getting a gig at a Thai restaurant, and talking with the kids. He’s patient (until he’s not), pulls out a chair at dinner, “Come on, babe,” he wants her with him.  

He’s trying to hold up the ship. Take care of her. Be a parent. Make some money. Go on. Waiting. He’s suffering too. People tell him he should move on. He won’t. “I love her. And, I’m losing her.” He doesn’t know what to do. Helpless, like her. Holding in his own feelings. They’re a lot alike.

And. It all comes out. They fight. The biggest, most explosive they’ve ever had. It’s necessary. The truth. Claire’s upset. Feels left out. Sidelined. Old feelings have hold of her. Dana asks if Mike’s going to sing any Neil Diamond songs: “... only temporary, until your mother and me can ...” “Get back on our ... feet??” Claire’s spiteful. Distrusting. She feels so bad about herself that she can’t stand it. She sees how he “looks at other girls.” He doesn’t. She takes her self-hatred out on him.

Mike yells: “You’re not the only one hurting, you know. Every day I think about the ‘big adios,’ but I’m here trying. Every day.” They scream and throw things. Mike’s a man who can’t get the help he needs for his heart. His heart is breaking apart. And. Claire, finally, sobs and sobs and sobs.

She needs to cry. Grieve. Talk about her feelings.

That’s what she needs to do, in Song Sung Blue.

Talk Therapy is “The Thing”

Thinking you have to “go it on your own” is a trauma response. An old one. For both Claire and Mike. That’s what happens when there’s been no one to listen or care. They’ve done that for each other. BUT. Sometimes love isn’t enough. Not when things are over your head. Confusingly scary.

Mike finally sees that. When Claire becomes delusional. She’s crawled out of bed. Onto the front lawn, where the car hit her. Convinced she’s performing again. Angry - that they’re trying to stop her. Determined. That’s what she needs to be. But she needs help. Mike finally sees that. And, as scared and guilty as he feels. As much as he needs reassurance that he’s doing the right thing, he takes her to a psychiatric hospital for the care she needs. No. They can’t do it alone. No one can.

In therapy, Claire talks. Opens up her feelings. Gets support. Admits she was “ugly” when Mike went to AA meetings: “Why can’t you just deal with your problems without all the talking?”

No one can. Talking. When you’re really heard. And. Understood. That’s what heals. Shutting out your feelings weakens you. “Sucking it up” isn’t about strength. Claire finally knows that. And. She embraces her grief: “The accident took my leg. I shouldn’t have let it take my music.”

Talking brings Claire out of her depression. Helps her to face her feelings head-on. Talking brings Claire back to her music. To her children. To Mike. To a much stronger self. In Song Sung Blue.

Resilience When Bad Things Happen 

Yes. Bad things happen. And they can happen again. And again. Like they do for Claire. But bad things don’t have to knock you off your feet (even if you’ve already lost one of the ones you had.)

Claire comes home. Steps up to be the mom Rachel and Dana need. The partner Mike needs: “I think the struggle with my prosthetic was more in my head than my leg. I felt hurt and ugly. I had all this anger inside of me and fear, and it all just cracked.” Mike sobs as he listens to his wife.

They help each other. Taking long walks. Claire, determined in a new way. Not hiding or pretending she doesn’t feel pain. They perform again, first at the Thai restaurant: “My name is Lightning, and this is my lovely wife, Thunder!” singing, “Holy, holy, eyes, dream of only me.”

They’re back. “Holy, holy, love...” And when a car crashes into the house. AGAIN.” Claire laughs hysterically, this time. “Don’t you see? Lightning can strike the same place twice.” BUT. This time. The car doesn’t hit her. AND. This time. She isn’t scared: “The universe sent two cars to get me, and I’m still standing even if it’s on only one leg. “I’m a believer. I couldn’t leave her if I tried.”

Lightning and Thunder perform in parallel to Neil Diamond for his overflow crowd. It’s the biggest they’ve ever been. Mike tells her: “I can’t thank Neil because every thank you I have goes to you, doll. You’re my August Night, my September morn, you’re my Heartlight, you’re my Cracklin’ Rosie, you got me? I’ll see you on stage.” This is their last performance. Mike dies later in the car.

BUT. Claire survives. Again. She’s sad. She grieves. But she doesn’t fall into that deep, immobilizing depression. Not this time. Yes. Bad things happen. They do. BUT. She keeps Mike’s love inside. Singing: “I’ve been released. I’ve been regained. I’ve sung my song before, and I’m sure to sing my song again. Once again ... I’ve been released. I’ve been regained...” Claire can feel all of her sadness, embrace it, and then sing the blues right out of herself, again, as in Song Sung Blue:

“Me and you are subject to the blues now and then

But when you take the blues and make a song

You sing them out again... You can sing them out again.”