Kodey's open letter
Photo credit: MadCityLife
Makeup: Mariel
Dear Mental Health,
For too long I tied you to the balloon of success and let you fly away.
I would tie you with ribbons and glittery string. I would cast you to the wind with a fond farewell and watch you soar across the sky. When you rose, I rose, but when the balloon popped, we would crash down together.
This was our existence. Constantly searching for validation elsewhere. Constantly searching for some sign, some magical secret that would keep that balloon in the air for longer.
I found I felt good in the breeze that came off the Charles River. I felt good feeling buzzed on cheap alcohol at the back of a bar. I felt good in the presence of others. In someone else’s light I would shine, but when you and I sat down together in the dark, I was afraid.
I tried to tie you to my creative endeavors instead. I thought I could make my own light by writing good songs. For a while, it worked. You and I would sit in a practice room together at 3am, reveling in the ecstatic high of creating something new. No matter what external criticism I received, I wouldn’t let it tarnish those moments we shared together. Everything was alright as long as I kept making something new. As long as I kept trying to make our relationship work.
But what would happen if I stopped making new things? What then?
In Spain’s harsh lockdown during the first wave of the pandemic last year, I found out.
Despair. Loneliness. Crushing sadness. Where was my creativity? Where did it go? I tried so desperately to force myself to create, hoping that if I did I would find my purpose again and feel better. I forced online co-write after co-write. I tried free-writing and performing in live-streams and practicing the piano. The whole time you were tapping on my shoulder. The whole time you were trying to tell me that something was wrong. And I ignored you.
Our relationship got worse and worse. I reverted to a version of myself that I had been many many times before. A painfully anxious person. An exhausted person. A small person desperately reaching in the dark for something that wasn’t there. I became afraid of you again.
Anxiety became my constant companion. It was there the moment I woke up. It travelled with me in the form of a dizzying hum beneath my skin or a crushing weight on my chest. It followed me to bed where I couldn’t sleep. It invaded my dreams and stole my waking moments, replacing them with intrusive thoughts and needless stress. It made me pull out my hair and bite my nails.
Finally, enough was enough. I did what I had been telling everyone else in my life to do and I sought therapy. Slowly, I came to understand our relationship. You began to reveal yourself to me in ways I never expected. When I finally sat down to write a song again, you helped me write it.
Thank you for helping me write Got Me Running. Thank you for reminding me that anxiety is a liar and that I don’t deserve to feel that way. Thank you for telling me that sometimes it’s okay to stop and listen.
All this time, I had tried to tie you to something else to get you away from me. You are not some dark shadow that I need to hide away in my closet. You are not a scary dog that I need to keep occupied in the backyard. You are my friend. You are a part of me. You want what is best for me and I need to take care of you.
I can let go of that balloon with all its ribbons and glittery string. I can let go of the idea that my self-worth is tied to my productivity. I am not my achievements. I am not what other people think of me. I am not as good as the songs I write.
I am a person. I am worthy. I am good enough.
Thank you for helping me to understand.
xx Kodey