"To dwell on my painful thoughts was to give them power, and to pray against them was to dwell on them. This is the paradox of prayer and mental illness. It can become a wicked trap, hurting with the very tools that should heal."
I had hoped I'd make some new fans of my own through the cross-pollination that an opening gig offers. I did, and this week crossed one more tiny threshold. My email list has now hit 40 subscribers. That's not a big number, but these are some of my best fans. People who are following my story. People who want to know when I'm playing a show near them. These are 40 people I will NOT take for granted.
I'm happy to announce that my song Beauty Bright is making it to more ears this week thanks to Rachel over at Adobe and Teardrops. I love the name of this alt-country music blog, and am honored to kick off one of her playlists.
I'm super grateful today. Grateful for those who take the time to listen, and if they like what they hear, pass it on. Grateful for those offering kind words. We put our work out there and it begins to become something else. Every time I hear another person speak about a song of mine, the song changes for me. Its meaning deepens. I know connections are being made and that is a beautiful thing.
This past week Beauty Bright was shared on a couple of great Canadian music blogs - Ride the Tempo and Ohestee.
My whole life I have tried to understand what was going on with my mom. Sometimes I did understand. Most times, still, I do not.
But this post is not actually about my mother's mental illness. It's about mine.
Two years ago I started taking medication for Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I was terrified to see the doctor. I was afraid to even entertain medication. Driving into the parking lot that morning was a big accomplishment. I recall the details clearly.
It’s hard to believe, but October 15 has come and gone. Where The Air Is Thin, my first EP, is now available on iTunes, Apple Music, Spotify, Google Play, Amazon and of course this website right here.
Saturday night I got to celebrate this milestone in the best way possible–playing these songs to a room full of friends. And I do mean full.
I've been home now for less than 24 hours. Half that, and most of it spent soaking up sleep. In this short time, the complicated beauty of belonging has unfurled itself like a blooming rose. Or a venus flytrap.
Already, I have sensed the transference of a psychic weight that comes to any who dares proclaim themselves a parent. It came in sighs and knowing glances, and it came quickly. Which is fair. This is expected. This is heavy.