Today I am feeling very emotionally exhausted. There is a lot of trauma in my life at the moment. None of it is especially dramatic. It is simply life, ebbing and flowing, and at this time in my life, I am drained. I have been consumed by those around me, and now I need to regroup. But where to begin? I am home alone with two young children every day. How do I make time, and space, to replenish those parts of me that are depleted? This morning, in desperation, I called out to the Angels for help. And soon after, I began humming a song that I had not listened to for many years. I realised it was a song from the Bon Jovi album, These Days. I needed to listen to my CD.
An hour or so later, after the chaos of breakfast, the dash to preschool, and a walk with the dog, I set up my old portable stereo (remember those monstrosities?) in the kitchen, and I popped in These Days. It was brilliant. Every song on that album resonated with my life as it stands. Every song brought back memories of my old life, before children, when I was young and full of hopes and dreams and ideals. And slowly, very slowly, I began to realise that things aren’t that bad after all. Bon Jovi will make it better. Or at least, they offer a temporary fix, a method of release in a confined environment.
After a short tea break with my neighbour, I put my daughter in bed for a nap, and returned to my chores in the kitchen. I decided to listen to another CD, and this time I chose Crush by Bon Jovi. Now this one really does hold precious memories. The album was released when I was a teenager, and it reminds me of love, loss and chaos. It reminds me of the trauma of my parents’ divorce. It reminds me of first love, first kisses, first experiences of adulthood. And the third song on the album, Thank You For Loving Me, reminds me of grief. But I always smile when I listen to this song. You see, the grief I describe is the loss of a beloved family pet, my grandparents’ dog, Lucky. She was our rock, our support, our comfort during the turmoil. And when she died of cancer, it devastated me.
Today I cried while I listened to her song. Because the memories are precious. And I am glad I have them. In ten years time, I will probably dig out the CD again, or hear the songs somewhere, and once again I will be transported back in time. I will remember fondly all of the pain and heartache that I am currently experiencing. I know that this is all temporary. And I find it cathartic to write out my pain. A weight is lifted. I can shake it off, take a deep breath, and prepare myself for tomorrow. Thank you for listening.
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