One of my favorite ways to begin my day is listen to music, whether it be waking up to a song on a local radio station to coax me out of bed, working out to some of my favorite songs to keep me moving, enjoying a veritable musical feast courtesy of satellite radio on my morning commute to put me in a positive frame of mind, or playing music in the background as I shower and get ready for work to boost my energy and mood. Music has been a faithful companion of mine since childhood, and it never ceases to amaze me with its power to evoke emotions and memories. This morning, one song in particular took me back and helped me to keep moving forward, all at the same time.
On May 14, 2011, my world imploded, as I succumbed to the depression and anxiety that I had been grappling with for longer than I cared to admit to myself or anyone else for that matter, and my life was forever changed, in both positive and negative ways, from that day forward. At times along the way, I felt like I would never be able to find my light, and I prayed that I would just fade into the darkness and disappear without a trace. It was during some of my darkest moments when I was completely alone that music would swirl around me, commiserating with me in my pain and offering me solace in its lyrics and notes. Sometimes, I sang along, which depending on the depths of my anguish at given moment, sounded more like guttural cries than harmonies, and other times, I merely listened and let the melodies and lyrics drown out my racing thoughts and sobs. There were certain songs that I listened to more often than others during that time, as they resonated with me, and when I hear them now, I am transported to a time that I have only recently have recovered from overall. This morning, one of those songs caught me by surprise when it filled my bedroom with its opening notes, stopping me in my tracks to listen and remember.
I was introduced to the music of Mumford & Sons around the time of the implosion of my world, and their music became a lifeline to me. I was drawn to their lyrics, and “After the Storm” became a sort of desperate lullaby to soothe my baby soul and heal my broken heart when sleep would not come. When I heard it this morning, I felt my eyes well with bittersweet tears, as I recalled one particularly difficult night when I sat in the middle of the rug in my bedroom with my knees pulled tightly to my chest, as I rocked myself back and forth in the same manner I used to rock my daughters when they were babies. As I sat in the darkness and rocked, I remember softly singing along, almost as if I were praying,
“And there will come a time you’ll see, with no more tears,
and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.”
Simply, achingly, gorgeously sublime. I so desperately wanted more than anything in the world for the time to come when I would have no more tears and that the love I desired would not break my heart, but dismiss my fears. I was ready to get over my hill to see what I would find there, with grace in my heart and flowers in my hair. I was ready, but it wasn’t time. You cannot rush a storm, no matter how hard you try, and you have to learn to ride it out and hang on until it passes.
After nearly two years, I can finally say, my storm has passed, which does not mean that my life is comprised of endless sunny skies, rather it means that there are more sunny days than not and that when a storm erupts, it passes through quickly, with little damage. As I sang along to “After the Storm” this morning, I realized that I was standing in the same spot that I sat in, curled in a ball, at various points over the past two years, either in tears or uncomfortably numb. The moment was not lost on me this morning how far I have come since those dark moments. I have not quite gotten over my hill completely yet, but I am close and ready to see what I find there.
That’s another story . . .
Categories: That's Another Story