How Sound Became My Security Blanket Against Depression

My reliance on sound to quiet my thoughts grew from a comfort to an unhealthy crutch. Join me on my journey untangling myself from this coping mechanism and reclaiming my peace.

When depression swooped into my life, I built mental shields out of sound — using music, TV, and games to fill every moment with a distracting cacophony.

My security blanket of sound appeared row by row, sort of accidentally, but I kept it around by choice. I snuggled into its comforting echoes because when they were around, the roar of my depressive episodes became a muted kitten’s mewl.

I reveled in it until it became my primary coping mechanism — edging out healthier options like therapy, movement, and tapping into my community. On the surface, it felt like it was helping, but my cozy blanket was just a shoddy bandage. 

While breaking free from this security blanket initially felt like torture, almost causing me to retreat multiple times, it also made me realize how much I’d missed listening to the world around me

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How did my overreliance on sound start?

Depression started creeping its way into my life during my teen years, snapping at my heels between bouts of rushing hormones. But I didn’t receive a diagnosis until my early 20s.

Moments of quiet terrified me because my brain had the freedom to run wild, spinning from a traumatic memory to torturous overthinking to total numbness.

I’d sink into the ugliest corners of my brain, obsess about self-harming, and criticize myself to an extreme degree until the dissociation took over. Every slip into the dark felt crushing, and dragging myself back up the stairs felt harder each time.

Looking back, I can see that the silence felt so all-consuming because my brain was stuffed full of unprocessed trauma and undiagnosed depression. In the quiet moments of life, these thoughts spilled over and went into overdrive, drowning my consciousness in confused anguish.

So, I started filling the gaps with noise to cut the gas from my brain’s depressive power. I didn’t do it consciously; the distraction just felt good.

My earphones became a permanent fixture in my ears, playing perfectly curated playlists for every task, from studying to doing the dishes.

As I added row after row to my new security blanket, my downtime became equally crammed with noise. Movies and TV shows constantly played in the background, even while I tried to work, and my earphones stayed in to brush my teeth and go to the toilet.

Helping yet hindering

I could only see the benefits as I continued weaving new layers of my security blanket.

I felt less depressed generally. I felt like I had peace. I felt like I could finally catch a break from the relentless pace of my overthinking and depression-prone brain. My life was more manageable when propped up by a security blanket weighed down with endless decibels.

However, these surface-level positives didn’t stand up to any level of inspection. My depression wasn’t gone — mounds of noise just muffled its cries.

Peace was further away than ever before because my life had become overcrowded with distractions. Although my life felt more manageable, I was wasting more time than ever on meaningless trash TV and excusing it away as “relaxation time.”

My newfound security blanket was also suffocating my already terrible sleep pattern. I struggle to sleep with any noise or sound, so going from noise all day to silence all night felt crushing.

I’d lay awake for hours, wrestling with all the thoughts that had come out to play when the machines turned off. Eventually, I trained myself to sleep to wave sounds and rain mixes, tricking my brain into entering a REM cycle.

Waking up to the negative effects of my security blanket

Eventually, silence morphed into my biggest fear. It terrified me more than any monster or specter.

My growing phobia loomed over tranquil moments with its fangs and sucked the life out of my bones, sending me spiraling into deep depressive states.

I befriended denial for years before I realized that my fear of silence had eroded my ability to listen to anyone. I’ve always thrived on spending time with people, but my security blanket of sound never stopped playing, even when I pulled the earphones out.

My interminable soundtrack drowned out even the most stimulating conversation, and I noticed my efficiency plummeting at work, too, because of my incessant “multi-tasking” with sound distractions.

The realization of the depth of my security blanket’s destructive influence came about slowly until it crystallized in the middle of a catch-up dinner with a friend. I was out with a dead phone, and they disappeared to the toilet for 5 minutes of pure torture.

Every muscle in my body screamed for distraction, tears welled up in fear of the stillness, and I found myself listening in on neighboring tables to ease my panic. When those 5 minutes stretched into an eternity, I decided to lay down the knitting needles and start figuring out how to deconstruct my security blanket.

Reworking my security blanket

Starting to unravel my precious blanket required some discipline. I’d unconsciously allowed it to spread its warm touch over my life, so I needed to unpick each layer with total focus.

I started by challenging myself to minutes of silence throughout the day. I would sit or lie on my bed or couch and set a timer for 60 seconds. Every second felt like an eternity grinding by my eyes, but they grew easier to bear over the following weeks.

When these minutes started feeling easier, I removed my earphones from daily tasks, starting with doing the dishes and conducting my skin care routine. I confronted these simple tasks with silence and found comfort in the mindful monotony of self-care.

Because sound is still a vital mood-setter and relaxer for me, I adapted my use of sound to modify my blanket instead of tearing it up completely. I banned morning scrolling and curated a morning playlist to help set the tone for each day.

I also have playlists to lift me out of a depression, aid in processing stuck sadness, and pump me up for work.

I also exchanged watching mindless TV shows while working for “concentration” playlists on Spotify to ease the transition between total distraction and total absence of distraction. I still use instrumental music to write sometimes, but I also love the challenge of writing in silence to see what it inspires.

Bottom line

It’s still not easy because retreating into sound overload is the quickest solution to a bad day.

But I am less reliant on my security blanket. I no longer panic if I leave the house without earphones, and even though silence still scares me sometimes, I also find solace in it.

I’m far from a master meditator who revels in total tranquility, but I have cast denial out of my life and befriended silence instead.

My security blanket is still around, and we hang out sometimes — it’s like that one cozy jumper you can’t donate because it fits just right — but I no longer need it to survive because I won’t let depression rule my brain anymore.