Mindfull Options
Music - The Gateway To Emotions
There are very few people in my life who are aware that I have a deep love for music. I am not talking about let’s put on a playlist and enjoy the artist, but a love that burns deep and bright. I used to play the clarinet, piano, keyboard, and would even sing. I come from a family who were heavily into music, my grandparents were both in several choirs, and encouraged me to sing whenever I could, from as soon as I could speak, along with dance, taking me to different venues and care homes to see people they knew. Alongside this, when I met my stepdad, one of the first things he taught me was how to play the piano. Perched up beside him, learning how to read the sheet music in front of me, and learning what key came next gave me a great sense of joy. Eventually, I was ready to move onto the keyboard, and I was soon playing tunes by Phil Collins and getting faster with my keystrokes. When I got to the age of 8 a great opportunity was given to me, and that was to learn an instrument at school, and the clarinet was chosen for me. At first it was frustrating, as I struggled to remember where the keys were without looking, but soon I picked it up and loved the sound that came through. My classes were three times a week for five years, and I always looked forward to playing, even if over the years, my practice at home became less and less, as my parents no longer enjoyed my passion. Yet I still continued to sing around the garden where I could, sing with my grandparents, and play my clarinet when nobody was home.
When I moved onto high school, I was excited to carry on, knowing there would be bigger opportunities to play my instrument, even maybe take my GCSE in music. However, my parents informed me, they could no longer afford the lessons, and I would have to give it up. I was crushed, something that gave me a sense of freedom, a world I could often get lost in, was now gone. The days of playing the piano, and keyboard had disappeared long before that, and a world without music, became so silent it was uncomfortable. I eventually spoke to my music teacher about if I could possibly join the school singing group, and with my great delight, I was accepted. My world was alive again, and I went to rehearsals twice a week at lunchtime. Knowing I had music again meant when my home life fell into its bleakest moments, I could sing in my head, take myself into a distant land where I could focus on the lyrics in front of me, and the beat with each breath I took. Whilst I couldn't take a GCSE in music anymore, as I didn't play an instrument, it gave me some form of satisfaction that not all hope was lost. Soon our singing group had been selected to sing at another school, alongside their gospel choir as part of a show. Whilst the excitement filled my stomach with butterflies, there was also a deep pit of despair. I had to get my parents’ permission to be signed off school for two days, to rehearse at the other school and perform on the second night. I had not informed them I was part of the singing group, as over the years, they had noticed my passion for music, and each time I went to embrace it, they took it away from me. Whether it was listening to a song, it would be turned off, if I went to sing, I would be laughed at, and if I expressed interest in learning another instrument such as the guitar, it was soon made clear it would never be an option for me, so I decided to hide everything I loved from them.
However, I knew I had to tell them. At first, they refused to let me go, stating that missing school was not an option, even though they had never been concerned about this before. Eventually they agreed for me to go, in exchange for extra chores. I was prepared to clean the whole house if it meant I could sing, I was that delighted. I spent two amazing days, singing, laughing, and listening to some of the most beautiful music ready for our show, and that evening, before leaving home, I checked that my parents were coming. They assured me that they were, and how proud they were of me being in it. Had they turned a new leaf, my gut said no, but my heart ached yes. Standing on that theatre stage and looking out to the audience, my heart began to sink. As I watched each of my peer’s wave at the family members, I noticed two seats were empty, of course, my parents were not there. I held back the tears, as it took every ounce of strength not to run off the stage. Yet I could not let my peers down, so I sang with every last bit of passion I had for music, and when we finished, I walked up to my music teacher and quit. I couldn't take the humiliation anymore, the constant ripping of music from my heart and my hands was just too much to bear.
It was only after I left the singing group, did I realise how betrayed I had been, my clarinet lessons, had been free all those years due to my family being on benefits, and I could have continued my lessons at high school, my parents had decided not to turn up, because they had decided they just didn’t want to, and the times following I went to listen to music, were then used an excuse to set off that days abuse on me.
In a few short weeks after the show for the school, music was gone, I never sang, I never played an instrument, and when a song played, the beat, melody and lyrics no longer meant anything to me again, until 6 months ago.
Sitting with a friend, and discussing how to process emotions, I was offered a couple of music links, whilst having them suggest that it could help. I smiled politely and thanked them. Whilst in my head I was already dismissing it instantly, as the trauma surrounding music replaced any hope that I could love it again. Being sent a link to a playlist of rage music to help unleash those feelings of anger I had inside of me, followed by a link to calm music, to help relax in times I needed comfort. I tried to shake off that hope, as why would you want to set yourself up for heartbreak again, but could this work? I will admit, I wasn’t hopeful, but I was willing to try. Sitting down and putting my headphones on, I let the first song play, it was painfully uncomfortable, and I kept having to pause the track to listen to the sounds around me. Whilst I knew I was safe in my own house, it did not escape the fear of remembering listening out for approaching footsteps, a door slam, a yell of my name, being pulled from my bed to the floor in an instant, followed by unimaginable abuse.
Yet the more I listened, the more I allowed the beat to take hold of me. Soon I remembered the comfort this once offered, the escape into a world where you could be anything you wanted to be, feel anything you wanted. An angry song could make you feel like you could take on the world, with adrenaline pumping through your veins, and a sad song, could make you cry until there are no more tears left to be wept. This was working!
Whilst now I take great pleasure in listening to music and will almost insist that the husband and I have something on so I can fall asleep to it, something I used to do when I was a child, as it gave me some comfort instead of listening to footsteps approaching. I sadly still do not have the courage to pick up an instrument, even though I own a clarinet, which sits in a case, gathering dust on a shelf, and books that are slowly going musky with age. I still cannot open my mouth to sing, even when alone, through fear of being mocked, or laughed at, which at times pains me when I want to join in but cannot. Instead, my face goes red when I have to politely decline and make an excuse as to why I do not want to participate, shrinking down to being a child and feeling fearful. However, Music is slowly starting to fill my life again in the way it did to me as a child. It is slowly allowing me to work through painful emotions that may arise, by listening to certain beats or lyrics. I can now put on a song and smile at fond memories and laugh at some of the stuff I once listened to.
Music opens up a world that we can escape to with just a pair of headphones and a dream.
Fern
New paragraph
