I recently had the privilege of flying to London to catch one of the final performances of Next to Normal in the west end. After what felt like a lifetime of anticipation, I was ready for an emotional rollercoaster— and it delivered.

Not only was the show powerful, but I also left with a souvenir—one of the broken music boxes from the scene where Dan (the father) smashes it in frustration. It felt like a fitting token from a musical that is, in itself, a beautifully fractured portrayal of life with mental illness.

For those unfamiliar, Next to Normal is a rock musical centered on Diana Goodman, a mother struggling with bipolar disorder, and the ripple effects of her illness on her family. It’s an unflinching portrayal of how mental illness can tear at the seams of the family unit while also exploring universal themes like grief, denial, and the question of what “normal” even means.

However, it’s important to note that the musical touches on triggering topics, including grief, drug abuse, and even a suicide attempt—issues that are raw, complex, and not easy to watch, but necessary to portray.

Naming and Taming: The Power of Acknowledgment

One moment in the show that particularly stuck with me was when Gabe—the hallucination of Diana’s dead son—speaks to Dan. Up until that point, Gabe has been Diana’s phantom, her manifestation of unresolved grief. Dan doesn’t usually see or interact with Gabe, but when Gabe tells him, “Until you name me, you can’t tame me,” the story shifts.

This line cuts deep because it perfectly encapsulates one of the core messages of Next to Normal: the importance of naming, acknowledging, and processing our emotions. Whether it’s grief, sadness, or anger, emotions don’t just disappear if we try to shove them away. Gabe represents the loss and the pain that Diana has been unable to fully process—and in many ways, Dan, too. Grief is not something we can simply ignore or “move past” without first confronting it.

In mental health (and life in general), naming our emotions is an essential part of healing. There’s something incredibly powerful in just saying, “I am sad,” or “I am grieving,” or “I am angry.” It’s a first step toward understanding and, ultimately, living alongside those emotions rather than being consumed by them. This is the process I had in mind when creating my therapy cards Emotions in Time.

Denial, on the other hand, is destructive—it keeps the emotion alive and festering, like Gabe haunting the Goodman family.

I am old as time and forever young
I am every song that will stay unsung
I’ll find you…
Remind you…
Until you name me
You can’t tame me

– Gabe in I’m Alive Reprise

The Weight of Normal: What Does It Even Mean?

Another theme Next to Normal explores so beautifully is the concept of “normal.” What is normal when your mind doesn’t behave the way society expects it to? Is normal even possible when the people around you are in constant states of emotional turmoil?

For Diana, “normal” is a moving target. She craves stability and sanity, but the medications that make her feel “normal” also numb her to any real sense of herself. She wrestles with whether being numb is better than feeling the extreme highs and lows that define her life with bipolar disorder. It’s a question that many people with mental illness grapple with: Is it worth sacrificing authenticity for stability? And whose version of “normal” are we even striving for?

Through Diana’s struggle, the show suggests that maybe there is no one true version of “normal.” The very notion of it might be an illusion. What’s more important than conforming to some societal standard is finding a version of yourself that you can live with—flaws, mental illness, and all.

Psychiatry: A Tricky Portrayal

One of the more controversial aspects of Next to Normal is how it portrays psychiatric treatment. The show is often cynical about the psychiatric system—Diana cycles through a number of different medications, none of which seem to work, and the musical even mocks the seemingly arbitrary way medications are prescribed. There’s concern that this portrayal might make people hesitant to seek treatment for mental health issues, as it implies that psychiatric care is just randomly over-prescribing medications and not actual help.

“Zoloft and Paxil and Buspar and Xanax
Depakote, Klonopin, Ambien, Prozac
Ativan calms me when i see the bills
These are a few of my favorite pills…”

– Dianna in My Psychopharmacologist and I

“And all these times that I’ve been told the way her illness goes, the truth of it is no one really knows“

– Dan in I’ve Been

One particularly worrying moment is when Diana decides to leave her treatment and confront her grief on her own terms. This is framed as a triumphant decision, but in reality, it’s a dangerous one. Bipolar disorder is a severe mental illness, and while acknowledging grief is important, abandoning professional treatment can have devastating consequences.

Thankfully, by the end of the show, we do see Diana return to her therapist and continue some form of treatment, possibly including medication. While this isn’t explicitly shown in the playlist (which is all I knew until now), seeing it unfold on stage provided a sigh of relief.

It’s important to balance the message that while we must confront our emotional pain, professional help—whether it’s therapy or medication—can still play a crucial role in managing mental illness.

The Break: A Turning Point in Diana’s Story

One of the most haunting songs in the musical is “The Break.” It’s a raw, visceral moment where Diana begins to fully unravel, unable to hold onto the fragile balance she’s been trying so hard to maintain. The song’s repetitive, almost desperate rhythm mirrors Diana’s escalating mental state, giving the audience a direct line into her chaos.

Lyrically, “The Break” delves into Diana’s deep frustration with her treatment. She’s tired of being told how to “fix” herself when she feels irreparably broken. There’s a deep resentment there—toward the doctors, the medications, and even her own brain for not working the way it’s supposed to.

They told me that the wiring was somehow all misfiring and screwing up the signals in my brain.
And then they told me chemistry, the juice and not the circuitry, was mixing up and making me insane.

– Dianna, The Break.

But then – she has an important revolution, her struggle wasn’t formed in a vacuum, and it can’t be treated when acknowledging the physical aspect alone.

What happens if the medicine wasn’t really in control?
What happens if the cut, the burn, the break was never in my brain,
or in my blood, but in my soul?

– Dianna, The Break.

This moment reflects a crucial turning point for Diana: a realization that her struggle isn’t merely biochemical. Her pain isn’t just a malfunction of the brain; it’s deeper, more complex, involving her soul. Diana begins to question the singular focus on treating the physical aspects of her illness.

This revelation is deeply personal. Diana is grappling with something that many people with mental illness confront—the fear that treatment is only scratching the surface. Her questioning resonates with those who know that mental health isn’t just about brain chemistry; it’s about emotional wounds, past traumas, and the complex ways these factors intertwine with one’s sense of self.

The line hit me hard because I’ve cycled through similar realizations in my mental health journey. From blaming myself entirely, to over-identifying with my struggles, to finally understanding that while I may not have control over what I’m dealing with, I can control how I respond to it. Like Diana, I’ve come to see mental health as more than a binary of “broken” or “fixed.” It’s about learning to live with your complexity and embracing your humanity, flaws and all.

Musically, the song mirrors this break—relentless, chaotic, building until it’s almost unbearable. The break is inevitable. Both literally and metaphorically, it’s the moment Diana stops pretending she can be “fixed” and decides to confront her pain directly. While this moment feels cathartic in the musical, it’s also fraught with danger for those who understand the risks of abandoning treatment.

The Ripple Effects of Mental Illness

One of the most heart-wrenching elements of Next to Normal is its honest portrayal of how mental illness echoes through an entire family. It’s not just Diana’s battle—her bipolar disorder ripples outward, affecting her husband Dan and their daughter Natalie in profound ways.

Dan, ever the faithful husband, has spent years trying to hold his family together, often at the cost of his own emotional needs. He’s the steady caregiver, the one constantly reassuring Diana and himself that everything will be fine. But beneath his stoic surface, Dan is buried under years of grief and repression, unable to fully process the loss of their son Gabe. He doesn’t hallucinate Gabe the way Diana does, but in his own way, Dan is haunted—trapped in a role of eternal optimism and care, using his focus on Diana as a way to avoid facing his own pain. His denial is as much a coping mechanism as Diana’s hallucinations.

Natalie, their teenage daughter, lives in the shadow of both her dead brother and her mother’s illness. Desperate for stability and attention, she throws herself into academic achievement and perfectionism. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, she is unraveling—her sense of abandonment pushes her toward her own unhealthy coping strategies, including drug use and destructive relationships. Her journey reflects the painful truth that children of mentally ill parents often shoulder the emotional burden in silence, longing for recognition and connection.

Next to Normal doesn’t sugarcoat the complexities of family dynamics under the strain of mental illness. The Goodman family’s portrayal is raw, messy, and heart-wrenchingly real—because that’s what living with mental illness often looks like. There’s no simple resolution, no perfect return to “normal.” Diana’s illness is not something they can cure or escape; it’s something they all have to learn to live with. For many families dealing with mental health challenges, this is an all-too-familiar reality.

Conclusion: A Raw and Necessary Conversation About Mental Health

Leaving the theater, I was in tears. The performance had been deeply emotional, and the themes of suicidal thoughts and self-harm felt very close to home for me. But alongside the heaviness, I felt true appreciation for how Next to Normal handled its subject matter. It’s rare to see a portrayal of mental illness in mainstream media that is so layered with nuance, empathy, and brutal honesty.

The show doesn’t sugarcoat the struggles of living with bipolar disorder, but it also doesn’t reduce Diana to her illness. She’s complex, flawed, loving, and in pain—a fully realized character dealing with a debilitating mental health condition.

For me, Next to Normal served as a powerful reminder of why these conversations about mental health are so important. If the characters in the show had been able to talk openly about their emotions earlier—about their grief, anger, and guilt—perhaps their pain would have been less isolating. We all experience emotions we’d rather not face, but until we name them, we cannot begin to heal.

In a society that still struggles to address mental illness openly and compassionately, Next to Normal is a beacon of truth. It urges us to go deeper, speak more candidly, and embrace the complexity of our emotional landscapes. If you haven’t seen the show yet—well, I hate to break it to you, but you’ve missed a truly gut-wrenching and beautiful experience on the West End.

I’ll cherish that broken music box as a reminder that even when things feel shattered, there’s beauty in facing our broken pieces head-on.