The music in my head

"What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"

– Rob in the High Fidelity movie

I experimented by switching back and forth between sad and cheerful songs and found that upbeat tunes generally make me happier for about three minutes but are often hard to relate to. It is not because I am some kind of a sad little person, I am generally perfectly optimistic. In a way, life reminds me of parents. I love it despite all the crap it gives me. Then why do I keep listening to music that makes me cry?

I think maybe it is because there are so many sides to happiness while the pain of loss is generally one. I think there is a certain threshold of grief after losing a person, a place or a battle that was fought so hard… After crossing that brink of a primary shock, for a while there the pain becomes so strong it blurs the differences of all the initial reasons that hurt… It becomes all-engulfing. Excruciating. So similar to other pains. The melancholic words coming out of the headphones suddenly rhyme so perfectly with emotions… It brings a sense of a pleasant surprise amidst the ocean of sorrow, making you wonder how in the world someone else could put your heartache into their words so perfectly even before your heartache existed. It’s that easy-to-relate factor that makes sadness so listenable. In the words of one dentist I interviewed recently, “our market is essentially based on pain.” I know the producers of sad songs will make sure I stay miserable a bit longer and I know I won’t put up too much of a fight against it. I guess it’s all about the core. As long as you keep it strong, all that wavy stuff like the music in your head won’t really matter in the long run. Like a storm in the sea, it will stir you up and subside. And then comes new happiness, new pain and new music to complement them.

Before Sunrise

I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt.

- Celine in Before Sunrise

I was standing outside last night, looking at the man on the moon. An insignificant spot on the face of eternity, he’s larger than us in some ways... smaller in so many others. I was looking at a swallow’s nest over my porch. I’m not sure how long it’s been there but the birds are long gone. They must have flown away to a better place, carrying their dreams on their wings, leaving my porch with an empty nest. My dreamless porch.

I am doing better at times. I think my mind is ready to move on, telling me there’s no reason to cry over someone who doesn’t care. But the pain still wakes me up in the middle of the night, every night.

I look back at this summer. There is a strong temptation to forget certain people, moments or days; but I don’t give in to it. It might be good to not have lived some of those days, but would it be right? I believe our mistakes are there for a reason. They remind us of our human flaws. They help us grow.

I look back at the day of the big fight, when I stood up for your right to take the opposite side and, as a result, lost my friend. There is another painful memory from that night, that of you slamming the car door and walking away. But you know, I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t skip that evening even if I knew what was coming. I wouldn’t try to save my friendship. I wouldn’t stop you from walking away. Because when you caught up with me at a stoplight a minute later, you told me that you loved me. I will eventually forget the tremendous negativity of that night, but I will treasure the fact that you and I were able to leave it all behind so easily, driving away into the night.

I look back even further and I see us in a friend’s garage at 7 a.m. in the morning, after just talking the night away. I see us going through a car wash twice, enjoying the little streams rolling down the windows in this rainless land, lowering the backs of our seats to lay down and listen to some quiet music, savoring the simple bliss of the moment. I see us walking through the farmer’s market closer to noon, without a single hour of sleep the night before but with our reflections still fresh and clear in each other’s eyes. You carrying the fruits for me. Your smile a reflection of a morning sun. I see us in your room, going though your family photographs. Your books. Your paintings. You making hot dogs in the kitchen. Me drinking juice from the bottle. You had no cups. You lying on the floor in an empty room, looking at the sun caught in the texture of my dress as I stand in the doorway. That dress looked tired of your witty remarks over the last 24 hours. I wasn’t. Remember? Us sitting on a staircase in your hallway, speaking about the meaning of life. You handing me a book to take home with me. You waving goodbye to me on my way out, then rushing down the staircase to give me a hug. One perfect hug. My hand shaking behind your back holding the heavy fruits. You releasing me just to ease my burden. Our shadows crossing one last time on the pavement, one unwilling to leave, another unwilling to let go.

That was our own Before Sunrise, wasn’t it. That night was the whole world, the perfect world in which we had lived and breathed each other before the real life began. Before your friends didn’t get along with mine. Before I pushed you away. Before your heart grew cold, unwilling to forgive my fear of love. I think it will take me years to get over that one night, an eternity to forget the perfect fusion of our thoughts, ideas, feelings and dreams.

I don’t want to remember anything else from this summer.

A recipe to unbreak your heart

Ok, you have to try this if your heart was broken. Travel somewhere. Visit a friend who has been inviting you forever or a sibling whom you saw a year ago or so behind your job-school-whatever else too busy life. I know, we all are busy, but there are weekends, right? No, no trip is too short, my last one was Friday through Sunday and trust me, it works like magic.

Plan a trip a month or so in advance and take that month to get over yourself and cry all you need, but as the trip nears, look forward to it. Set your mind into an adventure mode, plan, pack, make yourself look pretty, it all helps so much!

I got this idea from a movie. Ok, I quote a lot, but I guess that's what you do being a journalist. Sometimes the quotes you see or hear are so relevant to your current state of mind that you can't resist the urge to jot them down. They make you feel warm inside, telling you, “Chin up! You are not the only one going through this!” They are better yet if they offer a solution to a problem, a practical step that actually works.

“I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.” – Iris (Kate Winslet) in The Holiday movie

I set my mind to good weather, adventure and meeting people who'd make me feel worthwhile. I decided to take the load off my heart and stay cheerful throughout the trip to make sure the people I meet also feel worthwhile around me.

The new place breathes new life into you, it gives you new energy, it makes you feel whole again. It gives you new ideas, something to look forward to. To my surprise, my grief did not come back home with me. I felt as if I came back from a two-week vacation — not a weekend at all — refreshed, strong, eager to experience more of that new independence. A week later, I still feel that. I don’t want to go back to crying. Why would I?

There is a whole world out there ready to embrace you, as soon as you are ready. Pack your bags and leave!

I hope this helps someone else as it helped me. And I hope no one stays heartbroken for a long time, it’s such a dark place to be. Get out of there, and even if you don't travel, do something for a change or treat yourself to something nice, you know you deserve it.

Pain

I am coming back to my senses. Things straighten up. There are only two scenarios of what happens after you fall. You either keep lying there, your face down; with pain, fury, fear and helplessness all combining into an unstoppable source of tears… Or you get up, shake off the pain and start over again. I made my choice. I get up and walk. I did have to go through the worse scenario first to realize it was not for me. It was short – just a couple of days – but it left a pain burn, a strong mark of something I never want to go back to. I don’t even want to remember how nightmarish I felt and what I thought during those days. I don’t want to go back there although somewhere very deep in the back of my mind I want to remember that it is there, so I can stay alert and never repeat my mistakes.

"A nature like yours can turn trouble into good. All this sorrow will give you strength and point you on a higher way. Think of a tree, how it grows around its wounds. If a branch breaks off, it don't stop but keeps reaching towards the light. We must meet misfortune boldly and not suffer it to frighten us. We must act the play out, then live our troubles down." It’s my favorite quote from “The New World” movie; the words that helped me somewhere on my way back up.