Music?

I never talk about music, and there are sad reasons for it. You think I would want to talk about music, being a musician. Or a past musician, rather. Or, once a musician, always a musician? I don’t play for an audience anymore, so it doesn’t feel like I’m one anymore. I don’t really practice. I have a hard time playing for pleasure. Like I said, there are sad reasons for that. But talking about music these days is a touchy subject I try to save for therapy.

Why am I bringing this up now? A couple of reasons. But first, early this morning, a song popped into my head out of nowhere. This song by XTC from 1979. I went to listen to it and was amazed at how it’s stood the test of time. It still kicks ass.

I “discovered” XTC when I saw footage of Stewart Copeland of The Police on stage wearing a Drums and Wires T-shirt, the name of this XTC album. I had to buy the record to hear them since I was a major Stewart Copeland freak fan. I fell in love with them, of course. And this was somewhere around 1981. I was thirteen-ish! I’d been playing the drums for about a year, and from that time forward, I ate, breathed, slept, and shit drums and music.

Never in my life could I ever fathom NOT playing anymore. I don’t think anyone was more enthusiastic. No one practiced for more hours. In my mind, no one would get better than me if I could help it, at least at laying down a groove. That was my focus. And after some 20 years, I’ll now admit I was up there with some of the best before I took the longest hiatus ever.

Now, after many, many years, I’ve been practicing. A little bit. But it’s been the most disturbing, upsetting, and humbling experience of my life. Seriously. I’m WORSE than when I was twelve years old, just starting out, and I’m not exaggerating at all. When I was twelve, I didn’t have neurological problems, arthritis, or lupus. I wasn’t on psychiatric drugs. I also had strength in my legs, my thighs, my forearms, and more stamina. I was thin. I had energy. I didn’t have COPD; I could breathe! It was before menopause; I hardly got overheated and perspired. I didn’t have brain fog. I wasn’t weak. I didn’t really have body image issues, either. (That hasn’t been helping!)

A lot was different then. Youth was happening. That’s not happening now. The other thing that’s not happening now is the love. The love turned into lament a long time ago. In fact, it turned into lament toward the tail end of my gigging days with my band, sadly. I started to miss how I loved playing and everything that came with it: the band, the stage, rehearsal, the laughter, the writing, the songs, and even the problems. Too many things happened that we couldn’t come back from, and I continued to stay there anyway, which led me over a cliff into burnout and beyond. A line past depression and apathy, too.

But I had bipolar disorder. For years, I wasn’t yet diagnosed or managed. I was also doing everything in my power to hide the fact. I was not very successful at it, so I isolated. I was taking my sadness and anger out on myself, and I stopped playing. I stopped listening to music. It hurt too much. I worked hard at burying my pain, and I haven’t really talked about it much nor healed from it yet. I keep working at it, but it’s hard. It’s been a really slow process for some reason. Maybe because it was a long fall? Not sure. But I’ll keep trying, ya know?

2 thoughts on “Music?

  1. Hannah October 30, 2024 / 8:39 am

    Do keep trying. Music loves you.

  2. Ayin Es October 30, 2024 / 8:43 am

    I will. Thank you, love.

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