Can music bring you back to life?
So, I went through all "that" last year. I thought that when it was over, I would bounce back to my normal mental state. It wasn't stellar to begin with, so I wasn't shooting very high...
Instead of feeling better about finishing treatment, I sunk into a months-long funk. Yes, I was thankful to a certain degree. I had a wonderful husband and an amazing son. Yes, I physically felt a little better. I was back working. But...I really felt so hopeless. I just knew that I was going to die anyway, so what was the point of anything? At times, I wanted to kill myself just to beat cancer to it. It sounds selfish (especially with having a family to live for), but it is impossible to wrap your mind around unless you have been there, and maybe not even then.
I have always been the kind of gal who wanted something and found a way to get it. I could not get "me" back, or a "better me", which is what I (and my family) needed. So, in order to get myself living again, I decided that 2008 would be the year of "living". I needed tangible things to look forward to. I needed little snippets of future time to assure myself I would be there. I was going to do things that I had always wanted to do, but just didn't for one reason or another...
1. See Pearl Jam live again.
In April, I sat with my lap top, refreshing the The Colonial Center's website, waiting for tickets to go on sale. The store called twice, but I refused to let anything distract my fingers from their task. I must have hit F5 about 50 times. I got 'em, and they were pretty good.
The month of April was busy, and May even more so. I started wondering if I could even take time out to travel to South Carolina. I wondered if I would have the stamina to actually enjoy the show. If you know me, I can be quite entertaining, but would I feel uncomfortable? I am not the kind of gal who will just sing and dance in public, with strangers no less.
I put my tickets up on ebay. I took them down. I put them back up. I took them down again. Todd made reservations at a hotel. I packed our bags. We got about 20 minutes outside of South Carolina, and I realized I had forgotten the tickets. Kudos to the staff at The Colonial Center--they reissued our tickets, and John would have handed me a Kleenex through the phone if he could have. Still, I was beginning to wonder if I should have left the tickets up on ebay...was it an omen of some freaky sort?
We missed most of KOL's set (due to the pull over summit on the forgotten tickets). As we were waiting for Pearl Jam to come out, I began to get anxious, but was starting to feel "something". Excitement was creeping in...looking forward to "that something" was creeping in...
It was a.m.a.z.i.n.g. I danced, I jumped, I pumped my fist in the air at the appropriate times. I screamed, "Hellooooo!!!", "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie", and "No More!!!". I drank my draft beer, and snuck a puff on a cig when Eddie lit up. I sang so loud that I could barely talk at the first encore (if you don't believe me, take a peek at Todd's video--I am the annoying one). I cried during "Alive", because I was.
The way I felt afterwards is something I just can't put into words that will make sense to anyone else. It might sound silly to anyone who hasn't been in that dark place, but I came back from whereever I had been for the last year, or maybe even longer than that. I realized that there was more life out there, I could enjoy it, and with gusto, energy, and giddiness. The "moment" I had been waiting for (and needed) had arrived.
So, if you giggle at me when I tell you that I read "this or that" on the pit, or I bought a poster from a new friend (who I have never actually met), or I am desperately trying to find good seats to the Chicago 2 Eddie Vedder solo concert...just know that a part of my heart healed in Columbia. I will carry that night with me for the next half of my life. I don't know "why" or "how", but it's really beside the point.
So, thanks to Eddie, Matt, Stone, Jeff, Mike and Boom. Something you did brought me out of my cancer funk, and I don't plan on going back in. Now on to 2...
So, I went through all "that" last year. I thought that when it was over, I would bounce back to my normal mental state. It wasn't stellar to begin with, so I wasn't shooting very high...
Instead of feeling better about finishing treatment, I sunk into a months-long funk. Yes, I was thankful to a certain degree. I had a wonderful husband and an amazing son. Yes, I physically felt a little better. I was back working. But...I really felt so hopeless. I just knew that I was going to die anyway, so what was the point of anything? At times, I wanted to kill myself just to beat cancer to it. It sounds selfish (especially with having a family to live for), but it is impossible to wrap your mind around unless you have been there, and maybe not even then.
I have always been the kind of gal who wanted something and found a way to get it. I could not get "me" back, or a "better me", which is what I (and my family) needed. So, in order to get myself living again, I decided that 2008 would be the year of "living". I needed tangible things to look forward to. I needed little snippets of future time to assure myself I would be there. I was going to do things that I had always wanted to do, but just didn't for one reason or another...
1. See Pearl Jam live again.
In April, I sat with my lap top, refreshing the The Colonial Center's website, waiting for tickets to go on sale. The store called twice, but I refused to let anything distract my fingers from their task. I must have hit F5 about 50 times. I got 'em, and they were pretty good.
The month of April was busy, and May even more so. I started wondering if I could even take time out to travel to South Carolina. I wondered if I would have the stamina to actually enjoy the show. If you know me, I can be quite entertaining, but would I feel uncomfortable? I am not the kind of gal who will just sing and dance in public, with strangers no less.
I put my tickets up on ebay. I took them down. I put them back up. I took them down again. Todd made reservations at a hotel. I packed our bags. We got about 20 minutes outside of South Carolina, and I realized I had forgotten the tickets. Kudos to the staff at The Colonial Center--they reissued our tickets, and John would have handed me a Kleenex through the phone if he could have. Still, I was beginning to wonder if I should have left the tickets up on ebay...was it an omen of some freaky sort?
We missed most of KOL's set (due to the pull over summit on the forgotten tickets). As we were waiting for Pearl Jam to come out, I began to get anxious, but was starting to feel "something". Excitement was creeping in...looking forward to "that something" was creeping in...
It was a.m.a.z.i.n.g. I danced, I jumped, I pumped my fist in the air at the appropriate times. I screamed, "Hellooooo!!!", "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie", and "No More!!!". I drank my draft beer, and snuck a puff on a cig when Eddie lit up. I sang so loud that I could barely talk at the first encore (if you don't believe me, take a peek at Todd's video--I am the annoying one). I cried during "Alive", because I was.
The way I felt afterwards is something I just can't put into words that will make sense to anyone else. It might sound silly to anyone who hasn't been in that dark place, but I came back from whereever I had been for the last year, or maybe even longer than that. I realized that there was more life out there, I could enjoy it, and with gusto, energy, and giddiness. The "moment" I had been waiting for (and needed) had arrived.
So, if you giggle at me when I tell you that I read "this or that" on the pit, or I bought a poster from a new friend (who I have never actually met), or I am desperately trying to find good seats to the Chicago 2 Eddie Vedder solo concert...just know that a part of my heart healed in Columbia. I will carry that night with me for the next half of my life. I don't know "why" or "how", but it's really beside the point.
So, thanks to Eddie, Matt, Stone, Jeff, Mike and Boom. Something you did brought me out of my cancer funk, and I don't plan on going back in. Now on to 2...
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