Music truly is a language we speak when words cannot be found. For me, it presented itself at a time I needed it the most, from a most unexpected source.
Those who know me personally, know that I listen to mostly hard rock. I love the energy, the fast pace, the expression of both power and angst. It speaks to me, lifts me up, gives me an outlet for just about anything that I’m thinking and feeling, and allows me to express myself in a way that words can’t.
Today, music took a very different turn for me.
Recently, someone very close to me suffered a personal tragedy. It left me with a deep sense of loss, for both this person and myself. I found myself grappling with confusing emotions… how could I feel this sense of loss, when this tragedy didn’t even happen to me? Was I being selfish? How can I be a shoulder for this person to lean on, when I’m struggling to stay afloat myself? What am I even feeling?
This morning, I got an email from my youngest daughter’s figure skating coach. She sent three selections of music for my daughter to choose from for her new solo, and although my daughter was not with me at that particular moment, I decided to listen to them.
The first selection took hold of my heart within the first few notes, and I continued to listen. As the song progressed, a sense of recognition dawned on me. This was it. This was exactly what I have been experiencing. These were my words, enveloped in a song I hadn’t even known existed until moments before.
There are no accidents in this universe. I was supposed to hear this song.
You can hear the ebb and flow between calm and chaos. I could picture myself first, taking deep breaths, being in a meditative state, bringing forth a sense of peace. Being the rock, the calm, for both someone else, and myself, giving assurance that everything will be okay. Then came the slow build-up of tension before the inner shit inevitably hits the fan. Then comes utter turmoil, frantic dancing, stumbling, losing footing, finding it for just a second before losing it again, trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense at all.
Then, you can almost hear the falling of tears afterward. I felt them, because sorrow and confusion naturally follow a tragedy. I pictured myself resigned, seated on the floor, exhausted from the dancing, and I was finally able to release some of the tears I didn’t realize were waiting to come out.
Sometimes, wellness comes in the form of feeling what we do not want to feel. It comes from acknowledging that life can bring unexpected, painful challenges, and that it isn’t selfish to care for yourself after these challenges present themselves. Feelings are real, they are facts, they are part of what our souls are made of, part of our human experience… including grief, and heartbreak.
I didn’t have words for what I was feeling, but thanks to an email from someone I honestly don’t know all that well, I now have a piece of music to express these emotions, and I feel assured that healing will come.
How has music helped you cope with challenges in your life? I’d love to hear from you.
Xoxo
Nadine