Do I even like music?!

What existential crisis did 2020 present you?

This epiphany I’ve been noodling on has shocked every person that I've told. The thought first formed in my head the summer of 2021. I was at my first song circle since the pandemic, and I was…accidentally a little high. 

I’d been at an outdoor market that hot afternoon; shopping for some jewelry (all of mine was stolen when my house was robbed earlier in the year). My friend and I split a caramel from the Delta 8/CBD table (my first), and then I headed up to another friend’s song circle. When I arrived I was thirsty enough to know I should have water, when offered wine. I sat in the circle and listened to friends sing songs. I sang a few. “Do I even like music?” - just popped in my head. Followed by “what am i doing with my life?”

Almost prophetic. My Dad died the following week and the next week I was checking my mom into a memory unit at long-term skilled nursing care. There was profound sadness, strange relief, and a deep existential awakening that has been knocking at my mind’s door.

It’s like I was sitting in that circle not just with new ears, but a new brain. The previous 18 months or more had me in a therapeutic and survival deep dive, and I came above the spray a new person in some ways.

If you read last week’s The Relunctant Performer, you know a little of what and how I’ve been unwinding a lifetime of pretending everything is ok and being a lifelong performer.

Spoiler alert: of course I like music. But still, not the way most people do. Stay with me… 

Singing Saved Me

Singing saved me. Vibrating my own vocal cords as a way to self regulate as a child where uncertainty and chaos were ever present, probably got me through to being the functional human I am. 

By default, singing became my path. My granddaddy was a music minister, my mom, dad and sister sang in the church choir. My sister played the piano and had me sing all the songs she had to practice. There were cultural and familial constructs that encouraged me to sing. 

And, singing made my parents happy. They were proud when I got solos at church and school. Keeping them happy felt like my job in a lot of ways. And, being chosen to sing solos made me feel special. 

I loved hearing my voice too. Not because I thought it was pretty, or whatever quality someone might give it; because I could hear it. I rarely felt heard as a kid. Hearing my own voice felt like proof that “I’m here!”; the closest thing to having some power

I don’t know if I had confidence as a 9-yr old singing a solo in front of the church. My people were stage people. I was used to seeing them up there, and it felt right to be up there. When I was up there with a mic, and all eyes were on me… the attention was like a drug. It was greater than confidence. When the self-doubt of puberty and judgmental criticisms came, I still got up there; just didn’t enjoy it as much.

No matter what I was singing - at church, school, home, in the car - it was the vibrations, the melody on the exhale; that felt like the most important part. The release, the escape. 

Did I love singing? Or, did I just love the feeling of being safe, which singing gave me? You see my existential conundrum.

A Disjointed Music Education

My mom loved musicals, so we watched musicals. I’m actually named after Julie Jordan from Carousel. Our record collection in the early days were church music, musicals and Christmas music. The only pop music I heard came from movies. As much as music felt like a central focus, we were a TV family. I don’t remember listening to music at home, unless it was Christmas time, and we had those old Bing Crosby records playing.

I don’t remember listening to the radio until I was 10 when I got my very own stereo; a post-divorce gift. It was one of those stereo/record player/cassette player - all in one, with 2 separate speakers. A lot of things changed after the divorce; new school, church, home(s), got a dog. My sister should’ve been off to college, but she dropped out to work to help mom make ends meet. She started and stopped college several times, trying to live her life, and getting called back to help. 

I spent more and more time alone. I watched TV, movies and started listening on my new stereo.

Footloose came out that year. So did Amadeus and The NeverEnding Story”! I remember learning the old jazz standard “All of Me” from watching the movie of same title, with Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin. I learned songs from Ghostbusters and The Karate Kid! 

Top radio hits were by Madonna and Prince, Huey Lewis, Michael Jackson, Cyndi Lauper, Stevie Wonder, Tina Turner. It’s possible that the first time I ever heard of Paul McCartney was his duet, “Say say say”, with Michael. 

I wasn’t supposed to listen to Prince and Madonna, but I was a latch-key kid and MTV was at its peak, so of course I watched and listened!! I danced and sang by myself in the living room with the best of the best! I think my first cassette tape was Wham’s “Make it Big”. I had such a crush on George Michael (little did i know). 

1985 brought hit movies with new soundtracks: Back to the Future, Cyndi Lauper had a hit in The Goonies, Tears for Fears had a hit in the Val Kilmer movie Real Genius, and Duran Duran sang the Bond theme in A View to a Kill. We were a James Bond family! 

We are the World came out. That was probably my introduction to Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, maybe even Diana Ross!

And, then, the divine Whitney Houston came on the scene. She was the queen of my world by 1986. My sister took me to see her in 1987; a great first live concert. New Edition and Bobby Brown were my second! NE, Kool & the Gang and Boyz II Men were my boy bands. 

Those years (1984-89) were probably the only time when I was obsessed with music and musicians. I never once sang along with these favorites of mine and wondered, how do I sound? The closest I came to singing pop music as a solo was in 7th grade, when Mr. Chisholm got me to sing Diana Ross’ “Do you know where you’re going to”.

I got funneled back to church and church music, and away from all the dangers of the secular world sometime in 10th grade. Contemporary Christian music became my focus.I bought into the fear and the beliefs. I left my beloved pop music of the 80s behind. Like clockwork; 1990 hit and I was a devout believer. 

When I started college, I turned toward the requirements - classical music. And, I got to revisit my music theater roots (mom was happy).

Even though I untangled myself from the harmful religious views later in my college years, it’s like I traded one righteousness for another. I was no longer judging you and me for heaven or hell, but judging what I sang and HOW I sang. And, therefore, judging your voice and musical choices too. 

Of all the wonderful takeaways I got in college, this is one of those covert harmful lessons that I learned. There was an unspoken hierarchy in what songs and sounds were better, appropriate, permitted (from style to technique). 

Honestly, as I look back on my story, this is what sullied my relationship with music and singing more than anything. It just took me almost 20 years to see it. Because, I was IN it. Just like religion for a time, I drank the kool-aid.

What Students Can Teach 

It was soon after I started teaching singing that I started to slowly let go of the restrictive standards I learned in school. I started teaching voice lessons as a favor, to help out the college with demand after an adjunct left. I wasn’t sure, but they (my teachers) convinced me I could do it. It was just a few students; something maybe fun to do after my desk day-job ended; could  make a little extra money too. 

I taught how they taught me. That worked okay with the student who didn't have an agenda, or opinions. Luckily, I started questioning a lot when I first started. There was so much I didn’t know. Of course, I didn’t know how to formally admit that for another decade or so. The trickiest bit was teaching the way I knew how, and then the student didn’t have the expected results. Have you ever taught someone how to do something you didn’t know how you knew to do? ‘Cause technically, no one taught me how to sing; the lessons in college taught me how to sing differently. Developing different ways to teach helped me reach a wider spectrum of singers.

When I became curious enough and could find the window in my life plan, I went back to school. At the age of 30, I had a plan: I’ll make a career out of teaching people to sing, or sing better, as is often the request. Staying in this fix-it model kept me in the judge's seat too. 

The twists and turns of my continuing education led me to different teaching philosophies. And the more I learned, the more I questioned; eventually bringing me to a much more widely accepting view of all sounds and appreciating the value of all styles of music. 

All the while, my students continued to further my own music education. I was learning about the voice and giving them tools for their instrument to navigate their chosen song, which very often, I did not know. 

I cannot tell you how many times in my career that I’ve heard: “you don’t know that song?! How can you not know that song (or artist)?!” If I had a nickel!!

The more I allowed students to pick their own song (I came from a tradition of teachers picking out songs!) the more fun they (we) had, and the more my music knowledge increased. Slowly but surely, I realized that maybe I could sing whatever I wanted too.

I joined the opera chorus after grad school, and that had been my main source of performing, outside the occasional church or wedding solo. Singing in the operas was fun; I got to play dress up!

Singing and music had become my job and hobbies.

The more I reconnected to my body (accepting it), starting a yoga practice, doing somatic training for the voice, the more internal wisdom I found. I learned to trust that I could make my own song choices, and sing them however felt right to me. I stopped asking permission. I stopped seeking approval.

I started going to open mics around town with some students. My first one was a miserable experience, because I listened to every singer with judgment, gauging if it was safe for me to get up there: either “they’re too good, i can’t do this” or, “they’re not that great, i could do this.” 

Even though I’d been singing my whole life, this kind of casual intimate singing of pop songs in a small space was new to me. I was petrified. I was so tired of my own comparative brain by the end of that first open mic. I noticed how much the comparison was making it a horrible time. 

A switch flipped. If this is the arena I want to sing in, my students want to sing in, then I want it to be enjoyable. 

I believe it was this awakening and knowing through my singing and teaching that led me to the next phase of my life… healing. Understanding the value of all voices and all genres created an opening for me to investigate where else in my life might I need change and expansion. 

Songwriting and Agency

A year into my healing journey, I took my first songwriting class. I’d never imagined writing songs. I thought (naively) it was something you could or couldn’t do. I had several newbie adult songwriters start coming to the studio for voice training, and they encouraged me to come to songwriting camp to play and create. Thank goodness for them!

Songwriting became a solace and an avenue for my catharsis, processing grief and joy, and all the complexities in between. It’s hard to say what my trauma recovery journey would have looked like without it. They are intertwined in my healing. I began to create my own songs, make my own music, and write my own stories. My relationship with music, and my voice was changing. 

I started paying attention to others’ lyrics more acutely. I stopped singing certain songs, because I didn’t want to say those words, and now there were more songs I was attracted to, because of the lyrics, the stories.

As my own self worth grew, and my desire to tell stories was more important than being heard (and appreciated and lauded for my sound), the sound of my voice became less important. 

About six months before I started writing songs, I left the opera world pulled back from the choir at church. Both groups held too much judgment for the path I was on. Not to say criticism doesn’t exist in the contemporary music world; just not as much, and not the same way. My healing was easier when the critical voices weren’t constantly there. Choral singing does require that you sing a particular way; and my new freedom needed no borders on my voice. 

Part of me doesn’t care how my students sound either. I know they want me to, but I believe knowing their worth and that all sounds are acceptable have got to be the foundation. Because, then they get to choose what desired sounds are for themselves. I tell my clients all the time: “I’m not the arbiter of what is good/right. You get to decide what you want to sound like.”

The Music Truly Became Less Important

The importance of this right to choose became so much stronger as we all moved online in 2020. The confluence of that year and my personal turmoil with my parents’ health and diving back into childhood trauma recovery work, left me at a bare minimum of energy to help others worry about how good they sounded. I’m not saying it’s not important, it just couldn’t be for me, in those days. So many things needed letting go.

And, it became less important for my students too. They needed more connection, more certainty, more confidence, more comfort during that time. We all did! We gathered online and chatted, and sang songs with karaoke tracks. There was some “vocal training” happening, but there were many early days where I just held space for someone to talk about how hard life was, and maybe sing a song or two that gave them some joy, or relief. Some days we just did warm-up/exercises because everyone’s voice was so fried, from worry, fatigue, and extra Zoom calls.

So, yeah, I didn’t care so much about the music. I didn’t care so much about how good my singing was or theirs was; we just sang to find relief and release. I do care a lot about people, and once I found more understanding of emotions and the freedom of expression, I knew that was the next step to “freeing” their voices.  

The Reality

The grief of losing my parents a few years ago made me question if I needed to keep singing, since I didn’t need to make them happy anymore. I thought for a short while that I might stop. And that I might even stop teaching singing. There was like, 6 months, when I felt a bit like a fraud.

I’ve been told by hundreds of people that music has been part of their healing journeys, that it has been what has helped them get through difficult times. Most of my fellow musicians are smitten; they love listening to it and playing it. My songwriter friends can’t get enough of gathering and singing songs together. 

My experience feels different, maybe since music was intertwined with my childhood and religious traumas growing up and really, up until I started my healing journey.

Other than those few years as a lonely kid in the 80s, I’ve rarely listened to music for enjoyment; it's almost always for learning something to sing. A job. Even when I started the therapeutic path of songwriting, I listened to learn.

As I embarked on this latest leg of my healing journey, my focus turned to learning about things that were going to help me show up in my life and in the studio, a more balanced, regulated, present and more authentic person. 

I learned about the nervous system and vagus nerve and its role in trauma and recovery. I learned the values of self-compassion. I needed to know how to have crucial conversations without getting overwhelmed by my emotions. I needed to know how to get comfortable with my discomfort and more importantly, other peoples’ discomfort and pain. I needed to know how to feel safe on my own. I needed to know how to see and value myself, without the approval of others. 

As I learned all these things for this next iteration of my beautiful life, I also had to figure out how to keep music in my life. After all, I had fallen in love with a musician. He has certainly brought fun along with music. He’s brought playfulness and sexiness and laughter with the music. He supported me when I thought I needed to let it all go, and has been patient and encouraging of my healing journey. 

Really, I just needed a little break. Of course, it was never a real break, because even though I let go of some gig opportunities, including my trio, I’ve continued to coach singers and sing gigs with Keith. In fact, somehow, I sang more than ever this last year. I’ve never had a chance to see if I would miss it. 

I wonder if part of this more easeful nature I have with singing and with my voice, is a result of being willing to let it go. I care about the singing. It still feels good to vibrate. I’m back to just enjoying the sensation and the exhale of a melody. Everything else is either icing (tasty accompaniment) or too many sprinkles (less is better for me). The Music is the vehicle.

Voice work is more than the Music

As far as the care of other voices goes, I wish for them to know that freedom and carefree feeling of enjoying the singing, rather than the harsh scrutiny of it. My worth was once attached to how my voice sounds. Now that I know I'm worthy no matter what, the sound doesn’t matter as much. I’m not needing the approval anymore. 

You don’t either! 

My passion for connection with people who are looking for transformation is exactly why I’ve entered into the Mind-Body coaching arena. This transformation could be for something big or small in your life, creating a life you desire, or it could be to repair your relationship with your singing or creative voice.

Whether you’re a singer or not, your voice may still need to find the agency and confidence to declare what you desire for your life. It is our main source of communication, which drives our relationships.

I’m now taking clients seeking a Somatic approach to coaching through change, transformation, and a more ease-ful life. Our bodies have so much untapped wisdom to show us the way! 

And, for those singers who are in need of a repair and reconnection to find a path of peace with your voice, this could be just the work that you need. All voices are welcome!