Surviving Depression with Self-Compassion: 9 Powerful Ways Singer-Songwriter Andre Henry Found Hope Through Music

This article is a summary of a conversation from the Giving Voice to Depression podcast, hosted by Terry McGuire.
In this episode, Terry speaks with singer, songwriter, author, and activist Andre Henry about depression, suicidal thoughts, self-compassion, and how music became both a coping tool and a lifeline during his darkest days.

Andre’s song “Make It to Tomorrow” wasn’t written in a moment of triumph — it was written in the middle of despair. Yet somehow, it became a roadmap for survival, resilience, and hope. His story offers powerful insight into how people can move through overwhelming emotions without shame, while learning to support themselves with compassion, community, and practical tools.

Below are 9 powerful takeaways from Andre’s journey — each one grounded in lived experience, honesty, and the belief that even when the road feels impossible, tomorrow is still worth reaching for.

1. Music Helps Process Emotions

Depression often brings feelings that are too heavy, complicated, or overwhelming to express in conversation. For Andre, music became the place where those feelings could exist freely, without judgment or pressure to make sense.

There were seasons when his depression felt paralyzing. But songwriting allowed him to move those emotions through his body instead of bottling them up.

As Andre explained:

There’ve been seasons where it’s been paralyzing, but music has been so helpful for me in not just improving my mood, but helping me to process what I’m feeling, and helping me connect with others who understand the experience that I’ve had.

Music gave Andre a way to name what he was feeling while also reminding him that he wasn’t alone in those emotions. Listeners who heard his songs often recognized their own experiences in his lyrics, which created connection where isolation once lived.

Music doesn’t “fix” depression, but it can:

• Externalize internal pain
• Create emotional release
• Build connection with others
• Offer comfort without explanation

Sometimes, being heard matters more than being healed.

2. Saying “I’m Not Okay”

Many people struggling with depression feel pressure to hide their pain, minimize it, or pretend they’re doing better than they really are. Andre’s song challenges that idea directly.

One of the most powerful moments in “Make It to Tomorrow” is when he declares:

I’m not afraid to say I’m not okay. I am not ashamed at all.

That line didn’t come from nowhere. It came from a lifetime of being allowed — and allowing himself — to feel openly.

Andre reflected on where that comfort with emotional honesty came from:

I’ve never been afraid of feelings ever. My father never told me that boys don’t cry. I saw my father cry a lot. I had this strong sense as a child that you’re not gonna tell me how to feel or how to express it.

Over time, that belief became part of his identity:

• If he felt something, he owned it
• If he needed to express it, he did
• If someone criticized him for it, he kept going

There’s freedom in refusing to be ashamed of your emotional reality. Saying “I’m not okay” doesn’t mean you’re weak — it means you’re honest. And honesty is often the first step toward healing.

3. Suicidal Thoughts Aren’t Failure

One of the most important messages from this episode is that having suicidal thoughts does not mean you’re broken. It means something inside you needs attention, care, and support.

Andre spoke openly about writing his song on a day when he felt “existentially stuck, hopeless, and suicidal.” But instead of interpreting those feelings as personal failure, he reframed them.

As Andre shared:

Just because you feel that way doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means something needs attention.

That shift in language matters.

“Something is wrong with me” creates shame.
“Something needs attention” creates possibility.

When we treat emotional pain as a signal instead of a flaw, we open the door to:

• Compassion
• Support
• Problem-solving
• Healing

Pain isn’t proof of weakness. It’s proof of humanity.

4. Simple Safety Plans Work

In the second verse of Andre’s song, he describes specific actions he takes when depression starts to overwhelm him:

• Getting sunlight
• Going for a jog
• Calling friends
• Hugging himself
• Using humor
• Breathing deeply

This wasn’t just poetry. It was his real-life safety plan.

Andre explained how his therapist focused on giving him practical tools:

My former therapist’s whole approach with me was to resource me. She taught me different exercises I could use. We talked about what happens in my body when I’m having big, difficult emotions.

Even simple physical interventions made a difference:

She told me I could open the freezer, grab a pack of frozen vegetables, and put it on my face.

Andre described the second verse of his song as the moment where agency returns:

That section brings agency back to me in the song, and hopefully to the people who listen to it.

When depression tells you that you’re powerless, a safety plan reminds you that you still have options.

5. Self-Hugs Reduce Shame

One of Andre’s most personal coping tools is something he calls the self-hug. It may sound simple, but for him, it’s deeply grounding.

As Andre explained:

You hook one arm under your armpit and cross the other to your shoulder. It feels really secure. When I breathe in, it gets tighter. I just bear hug myself.

He shared why this technique is especially meaningful for him:

This is really helpful for me, especially as someone who has struggled with a lot of shame and self-loathing.

This physical act does more than offer comfort — it sends a message to the nervous system that you are safe, supported, and held.

For people who struggle with self-criticism, shame, or internalized negativity, touch can provide:

• Grounding
• Regulation
• Reassurance
• Self-soothing

The body often needs compassion before the mind can accept it.

6. Practicing Self-Compassion

Andre credits psychologist Rick Hanson with helping him reframe how he offers compassion to himself. Hanson’s exercise begins by asking people to recall a time when they showed compassion to someone else.

Then, that same compassion is turned inward.

Andre described the moment that exercise clicked for him:

What if the Andre who’s willing to march the streets or block a sidewalk for someone else’s rights showed up for me?

That realization changed how he viewed himself:

I imagine that version of myself hugging me, coaching me, and supporting me.

Self-compassion isn’t about being perfect.
It’s about being present for yourself the way you would for someone you love.

7. Remembering Past Resilience

When Terry asked Andre how he remembers that he’s always overcome past struggles, Andre shared a simple but powerful perspective shift.

As Andre recalled:

Someone once told me, you have outlived every bad day.

That statement stuck with him.

He explained:

We do forget how resilient we are. If you replay parts of your life, you’ll see how much you’ve already survived.

Remembering past strength doesn’t erase present pain — but it reminds us that pain doesn’t define the outcome.

8. Loving Yourself Helps

Andre explained that when he treats himself with kindness, everything else becomes more manageable. When he doesn’t, even small challenges feel heavier.

As Andre reflected:

Everything’s a little bit worse when I’m not supporting myself internally. When I don’t believe I’m loved, that I belong, that I’m a good person — everything the world throws at me is harder to handle.

Self-support doesn’t mean ignoring problems.
It means meeting them with strength instead of self-attack.

When people feel worthy of care, they:

• Set healthier boundaries
• Ask for help sooner
• Cope more effectively
• Feel less alone

Internal kindness creates external resilience.

9. Community Supports Survival

Andre emphasized that he didn’t survive his darkest moments alone. Friends, family, and loved ones played a crucial role in keeping him grounded.

As Andre shared:

My friends, my family, my loved ones — they’re the reason why I’m still here.

He explained that the “other voices” in his song symbolize the people who showed up for him:

I hope people feel supported in that way — like, I didn’t see this beauty coming, but here we are.

Depression isolates.
Connection interrupts that isolation.

Even when asking for help feels impossible, it often opens the door to relief we couldn’t imagine beforehand.

Final Reflection: Tomorrow Is Still Worth Reaching For

Andre Henry’s story isn’t about pretending depression doesn’t exist. It’s about learning how to live with it without losing yourself to it. His honesty, vulnerability, and practical strategies remind listeners that survival doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes, it looks like breathing through the next minute, hugging yourself in the mirror, or choosing to stay when leaving feels easier.

Throughout the episode, Andre never minimizes how dark things can feel. He speaks openly about suicidal thoughts, emotional paralysis, and the exhaustion that comes from carrying so much inside. But he also shows that even in those moments, there are still small choices that can create movement — not toward perfection, but toward presence.

As Terry reflected during the conversation:

We don’t see the moment of relief coming, the moment where light comes back in through the cracks — but often it does, especially when we call out for help.

That idea — that relief can arrive quietly and unexpectedly — is central to Andre’s message. Depression often convinces people that nothing will change, that pain is permanent, and that hope is unrealistic. But Andre’s lived experience tells a different story. He has survived seasons he once thought would break him. And not by becoming invincible, but by becoming gentler with himself.

One of the most powerful themes in Andre’s journey is the shift from self-judgment to self-compassion. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with me?” he learned to ask, “What needs attention?” That change in perspective allowed him to meet his pain with care rather than criticism. And for many people struggling with depression, that shift alone can be life-changing.

Andre also reminds us that healing doesn’t require a perfect plan. His safety tools — sunlight, movement, connection, temperature changes, breathing, self-hugs — are simple. But they’re accessible. And when depression narrows a person’s world, accessibility matters.

He makes it clear that no one needs to copy his exact process. What matters is discovering your version of the second verse — the part of the story where agency returns.

For some, that might look like:

• Taking prescribed medication consistently
• Walking a pet each morning
• Texting a trusted friend
• Sitting outside for five minutes
• Speaking honestly in therapy
• Listening to music that feels understood

As Andre explained earlier in the episode:

The things I wrote in my second verse may not be the second verse for everybody else.

What matters is not the method — it’s the movement.

Another key takeaway from Andre’s story is the role of community. While self-compassion is essential, he never suggests that people should face depression alone. The “other voices” in his song symbolize the people who stepped in when he couldn’t carry himself. Friends. Family. Loved ones. Support systems that reminded him he mattered when his own mind told him otherwise.

As Andre shared:

My friends, my family, my loved ones — they’re the reason why I’m still here.

Depression thrives in isolation.
Connection weakens its grip.

Perhaps the most reassuring part of Andre’s message is that progress doesn’t require certainty. You don’t have to believe tomorrow will be better to choose to reach it. You only have to believe that you are worth staying for.

Andre’s song doesn’t promise that the pain will disappear. It promises something more realistic — that you can survive it.

And sometimes, survival is the bravest act there is.

So if today feels heavy…
If your thoughts feel louder than your hope…
If the future feels too far away to imagine…

Remember this:

You are not broken.
Your feelings are valid.
Your pain deserves care.
Your life has meaning.
And tomorrow is still worth reaching for.

Sometimes, hope isn’t a feeling.
Sometimes, hope is a decision.

And sometimes, hope simply sounds like this:

I’m not okay.
But I’m still here.