Music to My Ears.

For a long time, I shut it out. With the world dancing and singing and laughing and celebrating outside, I shut my eyes and ears and crouched low in a black box because sounds were unbearable, lights too blinding.

When people ask me what clinical depression was like, I never know quite where to start, what to say. To skim the surface, it takes away parts of you and makes you believe that you are whatever’s left. And so the colours faded further, the music died down and I found myself choking in a black box. Music became unbearable, colours blinding- and a part of the artist in me died everyday.

I didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to see people, didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to run or hear or see because everything was too painful to watch or listen to. I stopped listening to music. I stopped watching plays. I stopped dancing. I stopped eating new foods. I stopped cooking. I stopped daring, stopped being inspired and inspiring, stopped painting Possibility. Somewhere back there, I started to lose who I was, because I was afraid of what I might discover. And part of Recovery was being brave to find who that person was, who that New person could be. Only the remnants of the art of words remained with me.

And months later, back on my feet again, the world of sights, sounds, shades, movements have once again exploded into my soul, and the universe is full of Possibility, again.

The past few months, the past month in particular, have been exciting-just, trying, daring, creating, restoring, living again.

For months, I stopped eating, stopped cooking, stopped being adventurous. Just two weeks ago, I cooked a meal for some friends who came over. My family and I have been trying new restaurants every weekend and this entire year has been a learning journey on what it means to listen to my body and give it what it needs. I’ve eaten so many new foods that Ed took away from me- and I’ve come a long way, even though there’s room for improvement, still.

For months, I quit training because The Professional People didn’t allow me to. Just lately, I completed my first 10-kilometre race, at healthy weight. They’ve given me the freedom to train for half-marathons, a full one, even. Go for it, they told me. You’ve done the hard work, come a long way.

For months, I hid inside a black box and shut the world of song, music and dance out. For years, I hid behind the nightmarish childhood memories of The Music Teacher From Hell and refused to pick up an instrument, read any music scores. The psychological barrier was like a fortress leading up to the sky. I distanced myself from music because I thought it wasn’t my language, because I was afraid. But I made a spontaneous decision one morning, and am learning how to play the flute now. Theory scores and notes and tunes and dance movements to the tunes float into my head, and I’m not afraid anymore.

For months, I stopped listening to music, stopped allowing it to move me. Just last weekend, I finally bought Coldplay’s latest album and danced to it- not too crazily, just enough to let it move me and course through my veins, lest the weight of my hair break my neck during an enthusiatic head-bob to a catchy rhythm. And I discovered, that I actually enjoy classical music… hey.

For eleven years, I hid behind the fear of cycling. Just a few weeks ago, I got up one morning, bought a bicycle, and was smitten by it. I’m looking at a duathlon sometime next year. Anyone have a roadbike to sell?

Just a few days ago, I learnt that the Kitesong DVD has been made-it’s very simply an animation movie of the book, with music and narration. This time, it’ll be used to raise funds for disadvantaged children in Nepal, as well as needy children and youth in other parts of the world. Just as how music was put into the silent frames of the book and gave it new life, I feel as if music has entered my soul again, and once again, I can be moved, be unafraid to be moved. The completion of the Kitesong DVD coincided beautifully with God’s restoration for me and the return of music into my life.

It feels good to be back again, living, trying, daring to do things I kept putting off because I was too afraid to. It feels good to break down walls, tear down barriers, break off chains.

There is no black box.