Four days prior to the release of Songs That Saved My Life Volume 2, an album that introduces some of the Alternative Rock genre's most current notable bands and similar soul-shaking records from the past decades, With Confidence officially released their contribution to the compilation album: a cover of Drops Of Jupiter by Train. Admittedly when this news was first announced, I scoffed at the idea that they were covering a song that I had only truly acknowledged when it came on the radio or the moment the chorus played during one of those "Songs That Get White People Hype" YouTube videos I watch with my sister to pass the time.
Since 2013, With Confidence has continuously not only gotten me out of sticky situations but has continued, as a whole, to provide me with inspiration to create, taken me on adventures with people I only see as often as a leap year, and given me moments of clarity that don't exist outside of a Nicholas Sparks novel. A year and some days before their EP Distance had been given to the world, I sat in my Malibu driving to the coast listening to Tonight with one of my best friends in the passenger seat, wondering how we hadn't previously found this band and simultaneously grasping for more. I've toyed with the idea of a WithCon tattoo since 2014, I stood in the pouring rain, face to the sky amidst a crowd of people, screaming "despite the weather, it gets better," made an inornate amount of cards that are probably in a box under Josh Brozessi's bed never to see the light of day again, and though I hold this band to such high prestige, top tier-d, untouchable level, sitting dust-less on a mental shelf, none of it was shiny enough to break through my lights turning off.
On the night of November 16th, I sat sideways on my bed sobbing to Drops Of Jupiter. My breathing shallowed, my face was hot, my regret continued to flare as I realized for the first time in 6 years I did not WANT to see With Confidence live. Before bed I said to my sister "I'm getting frustrated, it looks like parking is going to be awful, it's a long drive...." and with a disappointed sigh she said "so no With Confidence?" and hung her head as I shook mine no. I felt devastated, I felt indecisive still, though I had just made the decision, and I felt like I had let someone down, AGAIN. My thoughts pinballed between "you're going to drive to Durham to see them," feeling it so out of necessity like I owe them something and that my past self would be so regretful, and "this is such a waste of time," cueing what I now understand is an anxiety-driven tailspin of a debilitating conflicting thought process. I kept rocking back and forth whispering to myself "I can't live like this," tears still streaming down my face, the sound of my sister asking "so no With Confidence?" echoing through my head. I knew there was only one way I'd be able to swimmingly aid this, and it wasn't because I needed to understand why I was having this sort of reaction to a song I paid no mind to before. Eventually, after becoming ferocious in my lack of control over myself, I fell asleep shivering. I woke up the next morning and spoke to my sister with a raspy tone "we're not going to see With Confidence, I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just can't do it. I spent all last night crying over it, I just can't do it," finishing just before my voice began to shake again. She disappointingly said "...okay...." and walked to her room. I began crying again. Though memory fails me on if I worked last-minute on that Sunday or if it was Monday morning, I remember driving to work, my glasses covering my puffy eyes, and getting to the final line: "are you lonely looking for yourself out there?" and breaking down in tears just three miles from my destination. My thought prior to falling asleep was only then fully determined.
By this time, I had been seeing a therapist for a few weeks and we had only cracked as far as understanding I had some sort of anxiety, and for that, I tell you I could have absolutely told you that without even seeing a therapist. During my session on Tuesday, I told her about this fiasco and my persisting inability to think about not going to this concert without feeling an overwhelming amount of guilt. "My past self never thought she'd see this band live. They lived in Australia, and I was just someone on the internet using social media to tell people about them in hopes I'd see them live one day, but really feeling like I'd never get the chance. It feels like I'm doing that version of me a disservice by not going, but I still really did not care to see them and I don't understand why." I explained to her that before I fell asleep on Saturday night I had made the decision that I wanted to look into taking medication, though going into these sessions I was adamant about not taking "unnecessary steps" towards aiding what was wrong. At some point in this span of a week, whether before or after the moment in question I cannot recall, I had spoken that through my inner turmoil, I found myself being unusually cold, not responding to friends reaching out, and wanting to burn all of my bridges and continue on as is. "Isolation is a major sign of depression" she explained, and for a moment I sat in clarity and confirmation.
The weight of years worth of unsettled questions lifted and a sudden responsibility took its place. Not solely for myself, but for those I had always been a cheerleader for not just being people I loved and supported, but now having my presence on their landing pad. I jumped, started medication, regular yoga, meditation, and set rather harsh boundaries for myself at work hoping I'd be able to crack whatever shell keeping me from seeing the light. Where I noticed a change in my personality, I noticed a lack of emotion. Where I noticed an increase in motivation, I noticed an unusually nonchalant attitude to my daily duties, ones that had plagued me like they were part of a pandemic before. My creative tools collected dust while what dust had been previously disturbed settled. The doctor's sentiment following my recollection of hobbies continued to ring in my head. "I'm asking you these things so next time you're in, we can make sure you're actually doing them again." In a moment of not only pushing myself to do things I hadn't in quite some time, I was trying minute activities that were taking up room on my ever-growing to-do list. Having decided that this year would be the year I became more in tune with how the universe prospers and what it does for me, one of those things was having my tarot cards read.
Though I've briefly talked about this before, what I failed to mention only for the sake of being able to talk about it in this sort of context, was an experience I had at the end of my reading. Everything seemed to have lined up anyways, and whether or not YOU believe in it, I DO, and this is my damn story so buckle in. During this reading I was given the opportunity to ask a question, pull three cards, and interpret the answer from the cards I drew from my own being's energy. The final question I asked was "who is guiding me through this transition?" The answers all pointed to money. Given my lack of money-driven insight, I became confused in the card reveals but continued to listen anyways. As the last card was being explained to me, Drops Of Jupiter began playing on the sound system, almost as if a perfect cue, and I completely lost any and all focus on what was happening in front of me. That was the answer I felt I needed. In my recording, you can hear the woman conducting the reading ask "do you have any other questions?" and me frantically responding "uhh nope, I'm good, I think I'm done here," while the song continued to play in the background. These are the sorts of signs I used to find all the time and was too focused on giving everyone else their signs to recognize my own.
Fast forward to where we are, in the current moment, March 16th, 2020. Exactly four months to the day from the moment I decided I was going to take my life in my own hands. Truthfully, this is a total coincidence. As I'm writing this, it is 1:42 in the morning and because I took a two hour nap yesterday, I couldn't follow suit when my sister went to bed at 11:30. Suddenly I had to write this down, and now I understand why. This was supposed to be a totally different concept. I had it all planned out! I'd hear Drops Of Jupiter come on shuffle and smile to myself, my chest would lift, and I'd be able to take a breath of acknowledgment. I'd feel inspired, so I'd sit down and write about how much this cover helped me to get to this point and how I'd feel like a totally different person. I'd feel whole. I'd feel inspired. In this moment, I'm dealing with a weight on my shoulder called "the ebbs and flows of healing," in which I can lift it on good days and it puts me on the ground on bad days, the latter a streak I seem to be having in the middle of allergy season and just at the mouth of the pending pandemic that is the Coronavirus. There's a slow progress of healing where some days I feel like a whole new person, the girl five months ago virtually unrecognizable and someone I apologize for. Most days recently I've lived slightly afraid and disappointed that "the old me" seems to be coming back. She's someone I'm trying not to be afraid of because as much as I differentiate the eras of myself and talk to them as such, at the end of the day, this has been and will always be me, these eras.
My sister and I found a band tonight that left my jaw dropped open. This is the reason I decided to sit and write about this because I am only just now feeling as if I'm getting my taste for these aspects of my life back. Even more so proven because you, the reader, have just successfully sat through a 7-minute read of a blog post that, compared to my others, is double the capacity at which I could write a month and a half ago. I was naive to think this process would have been instantaneous. Through all of this, the one thing I've been able to solely rely on to keep me straight, my attention direct, and myself in check is music. Below you'll find a tracklist of what sums up this blog post. What started this all, the first song that made my heart feel like it kicked out of my chest for the first time in months, the song that led me to write this, all respectively, followed by the music that feels like putting myself back together is worth a damn. Because now I know and believe it is.
Whoever you are reading this, whoever you were before, thank you for taking the time to recollect this journey with me. As my 25th birthday approaches, I'm recognizing that I've never held so much intent to find out what I deserve to give myself, who I deserve to be, and how to avoid the proses that complicate the rest of it. I don't feel whole yet, nor do I think I ever will. I don't feel like someone I know, which could be both good and bad, as now when I introduce myself to people we can learn who I am together, or I can take control and refuse to let anyone in until I know how this new version of me prospers. I've got the room to grow.
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