After a horrible two-week battle with the influenza A (A stands for “annoying”) virus, I am in the home stretch to victory, and as such have entered the final stage – gratitude.
This is when, after many days of thinking that you are probably never going to feel good again and all your loved ones should just forget about you and block your number, you start to improve. Everything around you becomes bathed in a warm glow (which isn’t your fever for once).
I have been appreciating many things in the last couple of days. Access to plumbing. The invention of medicine. Hydralyte. Being a lesbian and able to live with my girlfriend and endure the horrors together. Hot chips. Thank you hot chips. Of course television was also important as we lay rotting on the couch, but it was actually another modern advance in technology that I have been appreciating most of all. One that doesn’t hurt my flu-ridden eyes, and one I think doesn’t get enough praise from society. It’s … podcasts.
Most of the things that I thought as a child would be invented and waiting for me when I grew up didn’t happen. There are no jetpacks. Flying cars don’t exist. Hoverboards aren’t ready.
What does exist that I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams, spending hours taping songs and segments from the radio, is an endless expanse of podcasts. A whole world of infinitely varied audio experiences in digital form that I can get immediately on my phone. What exists, right in my hand, is the ability at any moment to have people do what I need: entertain me, educate me, intrigue me, or, most importantly in my convalescence – simply wipe all thoughts from my brain.
Podcasts I listen to range from very DIY to highly produced, from smart and funny people talking about celebrity culture to smart and serious people deep-diving into history, to improv comedians doing silly characters for an hour, to a few charming friends chatting about nothing in particular, to narrative fictional stories, to crime-solving, to the daily news. This is what I would have dreamed of as a child if I weren’t so interested in different modes of travel. Well, probably not all the boring news and politics stuff. Or the improv. Think of your nichest interest – there is probably a podcast about it.
I only listen to good podcasts, but I know there are also many popular bad ones for anyone out there with terrible taste. It’s a world for everyone.
While I was really sick and unable to sleep, but too exhausted to concentrate on a screen, and finding music doing nothing for my dulled brain – I was reminded of how much podcasts helped me when I went through a months-long depressive episode a little while ago. For the first time in my life I was so depressed that I finally understood why some people cannot shower for days, or can flake on deadlines, or not want to see their friends. I had never been like that at all before, always able to push through. It was a difficult time, and scary. I couldn’t talk to anyone; it was hard for me to speak above a quiet mumble; it was difficult even to sit with people in silence. For the first time ever, while my brain continued to think of jokes, I couldn’t recognise them as funny, let alone muster the inclination or the energy to say them out loud. I definitely couldn’t write funny articles, or work. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t concentrate on TV, or music. The only thing I could do was put on a podcast, and listen.
The podcasts soothed my spiky, painful brain. I didn’t need to engage too hard, or react, but I was having my thoughts occupied, and I felt like I was still connected to the world. It was being with people without having to be with people. I could fall asleep, I could go for a walk, I could get up and sit in the garden, because of podcasts. I could just let it wash over me; I could even acknowledge in my brain that a joke I heard was funny, reminding me I still had the ability to recognise humour. I was so depressed that I even voluntarily listened to straight men dissect movies together for hours at a time, nary a woman in sight. My friends will tell you that is a very disturbing sign. Rebecca Shaws only do that when they are VERY depressed. But, I have to admit, even those men helped me through.
There are a lot of bad podcasts by annoying people, and all the jokes about podcasting are valid. There are definitely too many people who incorrectly think they are funny and interesting and decide they have a reason to pick up the mic and put their thoughts into the world. Unrelated, listen to my podcast Bring A Plate. But this is a problem that exists in every art form, alongside pure gold.
Podcasts mean there is comfort and company if you need it. There is always a voice on the other end, ready to talk about whatever you choose. To engage your brain, or just fill it with benevolent noise. So thank you podcasts, for your service.
And of course, thank you again, hot chips.
• Rebecca Shaw is a writer based in Sydney
• In Australia, support is available at Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636, Lifeline on 13 11 14, and at MensLine on 1300 789 978. In the UK, the charity Mind is available on 0300 123 3393 and Childline on 0800 1111. In the US, call or text Mental Health America at 988 or chat 988lifeline.org.
