I’ve been humming the first song that played as I began my walk around the lake yesterday:
The words struck me as a sign. A good sign. Maybe my eyes sparkled as it flowed in my ears. I wrote a previous post about music lifting depression when nothing else worked, and thank goodness. Since Dad sang “You Are My Sunshine” to us at bedtime, music’s served as escape, fantasy, and solace. Songs elicit powerful emotions in me rivaled only by love, unless it is love. I get goosebumps, my heart races, longing, sorrow, and joy manifest as a tightness in my chest, warmth low in my belly, or welling tears.
I lost that, all of it, for several years. Chronic pain sucks. Feeling nothing horrifies. I’m often told I look younger than my age. It’s true I lack crow’s feet and the inverted smile wrinkles on cheekbones–laugh lines. Damn, I don’t have laugh lines. How sad is that? I’ve got some catching up to do in the wrinkles department, but I think I’m on the right track–the laugh track. Ba-dum-tsh!
From peacelovestudios’ FB page:
A Creative Voice for Mental Illness. Join Us at http://www.peacelovestudios.com
To build a positive symbol of acceptance and hope for the tens of millions of individuals and families affected by mental illness.
Millions of Americans suffer from mental illness each year – often in silence. Together with friends, family, and colleagues it touches us all. PeaceLove offers a rallying cry for acceptance and solidarity through creative products, programs and spaces that inspire and celebrate the healing power of art.