


Terry McGuire is an award-winning journalist and news anchor turned mental health and hope advocate. The Giving Voice to Depression podcast that she created and cohosts has been downloaded more than 2.5 million times, and ranks in the top 1% of global podcasts.




Terry McGuire is an award-winning journalist and news anchor turned mental health and hope advocate. The Giving Voice to Depression podcast that she created and cohosts has been downloaded more than 2.5 million times, and ranks in the top 1% of global podcasts.
This article is a summary of a deeply moving conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast hosted by Terry McGuire. In this episode, Terry and Carly talk with Andre Henry — singer, songwriter, author, and mental-health advocate — whose song “Make It To Tomorrow” has reached thousands of listeners who hear their own emotional realities reflected in his lyrics.
Andre’s story explores what it feels like to live with lifelong depression and recurring suicidal thoughts — while existing inside cultural stigma, racial trauma, and a world that often feels overwhelming. His honesty is steady, thoughtful, grounded, and deeply compassionate.
Here are 11 meaningful lessons from Andre’s story about surviving depression and choosing to hold on — one day at a time.
Andre describes living with melancholy since childhood. He was a child whose feelings were big and heavy, even when he didn’t understand why.
As Andre shared:
Sometimes I would just sit at my desk and just cry for no reason. And nothing was going on — that I could identify anyway.
His mother took him to a child psychologist, sensing that her son was struggling emotionally. That step alone matters — many children suffer quietly, unseen or misunderstood. Children don’t always have the language for internal storms, yet their bodies and emotions keep score.
Years later, Andre would be diagnosed with borderline clinical depression. But the emotional groundwork had been there from the beginning.
Important reflections
Andre grew up in a Jamaican immigrant family and Black community where mental-health struggles were rarely discussed openly. Depression existed — but not in words.
As Andre recalled while sharing a recent conversation with his father:
It’s funny, we were talking the other day and my dad was like, you’re not allowed to know that you have depression in Jamaica. And that’s a very revealing statement about the world that he grew up in and the generation that he grew up in.
That sentence captures generations of silence. It reflects a survival mindset, cultural history, and the reality that emotional conversations were not encouraged — or sometimes even allowed. But silence doesn’t remove emotional pain — it only buries it deeper.
Andre now recognizes that major life stressors — including divorce, family strain, and identity pressure — shaped his emotional world. But as a child, he was not encouraged to name those feelings.
Naming pain does not create pain.
It creates space for healing.
From the outside, Andre appears vibrant and successful. He has collaborated with Motown mentors, performed on meaningful stages, and built a voice as both an artist and thinker.
But depression doesn’t discriminate.
As Andre explained:
There’ve been seasons where it’s been paralyzing… I’m just gonna sink down in the shower and let the water run — who cares?
This is what depression often looks like — not weakness, not failure — but emotional exhaustion so deep that even simple acts feel impossible.
And still, music became a lifeline.
Not a cure — but a way to translate pain into connection. It allowed him to make meaning from suffering rather than drown inside it.
Andre speaks honestly about the psychological weight of growing up Black in America — where belonging and safety are not always guaranteed.
As Andre reflected:
You live your whole life in a world that questions your humanity, right? That says, we don’t believe that you’re actually human like we are.
He watched racial violence replayed on screens again and again — paired with rising but fragile hope during the Black Lives Matter movement. Over time, the emotional strain became relentless.
Oppression is not only social — it is psychological.
And depression does not form in isolation from it.
This context matters. It shapes how depression feels, where it comes from, and what continues to trigger it.
One of the most important truths woven through Andre’s story is that feeling suicidal is not always the same as wanting to die. In fact, the opening lyric of his song “Make It To Tomorrow” captures this emotional tension with honesty and clarity.
As Andre sings in the opening line of the song:
Sometimes I feel suicidal, but I know I don’t want to die.
For Andre, suicidal thoughts reflected feeling stuck — unable to imagine a future where the pain eased or life felt lighter again. The desire was not for death itself, but for relief from suffering.
Understanding that distinction allows compassion to replace judgment. It reminds us that when someone says they are struggling, what they often need most is safety, support, and connection — not correction or shame.
Andre also describes how depressive episodes bring distorted thinking. Logical perspective fades. Self-criticism grows louder. The brain begins repeating hopeless stories.
As Andre explained:
It’s when my inner monologue starts saying “This is what always happens.”
This is not simply pessimism — it is cognitive distortion triggered by depression.
Recognizing the pattern doesn’t always stop it — but it helps him prepare for it. Awareness becomes a tool, even when the thoughts still hurt.
When Terry asks Andre about the lyric expressing that he doesn’t want to die, he explains that suicidal ideation often reflects feeling trapped — not a wish to disappear.
As Andre explained:
I can’t see a good future when I’m in that place.
And yet, fear of the unknown still exists. His internal experience becomes a push-pull between despair and self-protection.
This reality calls for empathy — not assumptions. It invites us to ask gentle questions and create safe spaces rather than reacting with panic or silence.
The day Andre wrote “Make It To Tomorrow,” he didn’t set out to compose a song. He was overwhelmed — and turned to the piano to process what he couldn’t contain.
As Andre described:
As soon as my hands hit the keys, I just started singing exactly what I was feeling.
The very first line he sang was:
Sometimes I feel suicidal.
He didn’t soften it.
He didn’t hide from it.
He told the truth.
And truth reduces shame — for him and for others who hear themselves in his words.
By speaking openly, Andre reminds others that naming pain does not make it grow. It allows others to sit beside us in it.
Andre reflects on how emotional depth and awareness may contribute to why some people experience depression.
As Andre reflected:
I wonder if many people who often feel depressed or anxious are really just a little more compassionate than average or they’re just paying a little more attention to our world. Many things in this world are stressful, depressing and anxiety-producing.
Carly adds that from a social-work perspective, the environment people live in matters profoundly.
As Carly explained:
If the environment you are in is depressing, is stressful, where you are fearful about the unknown that feels unpredictable and scary and violent, then your body’s actually having a reasonable reaction.
Sometimes feeling overwhelmed isn’t dysfunction.
It is empathy responding to reality.
This reframing allows people to see their emotional responses as signals — not shame.
When the darkness intensifies, Andre turns to simple grounding tools — the same ones he sings into his song.
These include:
As Andre sang:
I’m about to go outside, get a little bit of sunlight… Boutta make a call to my closest friend, get a laugh in… Hug myself in the mirror for a minute.
These aren’t quick fixes.
They are lifelines that help him stay.
They create space between the feeling and the action — just enough space for tomorrow to arrive.
Andre’s courage in speaking openly about suicidal thoughts removes isolation from a deeply stigmatized experience.
His truth reminds people:
You are not broken.
You are not alone.
You are not the only one who feels this way.
And the podcast gently reinforces its guiding belief:
Depression is too dark a road to walk alone.
Stories heal — not because they erase pain, but because they remind us we are still connected to each other.
This episode — and Andre’s honesty — remind us that mental health is not linear, simple, or predictable. It is layered with culture, history, identity, relationships, physical reality, and emotional truth. For some, the battle is lifelong. For others, it comes in seasons.
But in all cases, hope is rarely loud.
Sometimes it simply whispers:
Stay.
Breathe.
Reach out.
Make it to tomorrow.
Terry’s work — and conversations like this one — show that storytelling is one of the most powerful antidotes to isolation. When one person bravely says, “This is what it feels like inside my mind,” it gives others permission to speak their truth too.
And when truth is spoken, shame loses its grip.
If you or someone you love is struggling, know that seeking help is not a burden — it is an act of courage. Sharing your story is not weakness — it is survival.
Sometimes, the bravest thing a person can do is simply stay for one more day.
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