Looking Back: Words and Music By Someone Struggling
My blog posts here at Heroes in Recovery talk about my family’s journey from my point of view. My son—who is now 25 years old and 31 months clean and sober—has yet to write his story in his own words, although I’m hoping that day will come soon.
Until then, the only written testimony I have of how my son was feeling during his struggle with depression and addiction comes in the form of a few random journal-type entries he scribbled in a couple of spiral notebooks, a handful of poems, and the occasional song.
My son loves music. He started playing guitar in his mid-teens and found an outlet for his emotions in songwriting. Over the years, he’s written and recorded songs from his heart that paint a picture of exactly what he was going through at that point in his life.
The musical influences for my son’s songs have always run the gamut, from the gentle singer-songwriter Elliott Smith to the grunge sound of the legendary rock band Nirvana. I think the sound of my son’s songs has always been determined by how he was feeling on the particular day he sat down to write. One day the music would be soft and gentle; the next day it would be bone-shaking rock and roll. I could always get a sense of what was going on in my son’s head by listening to the music coming from the basement.
One thing about my son’s songs has always been consistent, though: the emotional, heart-on-his-sleeve lyrics that accompanied the tune. Over the years I’ve been moved to tears many times while listening to my son’s music. One day at work, a song of his came up on my iPod Shuffle and I cried at my desk while I listened to it.
My son went through some incredibly difficult times, but he seems to have found his way to the other side. I believe that music has played a huge part in his recovery. In fact, when he was in rehab and sober living in California a few years ago (we live in Michigan), I bought him a guitar online and had it shipped to him, because I knew that music would be a healing force for my son as he tried to make major changes in his life.
Since he moved out of the house, I don’t hear my son play music as much as I used to. But I still play some of the recordings he made from time to time, and they still tug at my heartstrings. A lot. That song that made me cry in my cubicle at work? It’s called “Revelation,” and my son wrote it when he was 17 or 18. He was in the midst of his struggles, and I think you’ll agree that the lyrics reflect that:
Plastic sunset on a boulevard
Lights up diamonds
Drops of blood on a playing card
Held in hand
When the needle starts to rust
I won’t need to find a vein
Was it love or was it lust?
Guess it’s all the same
How can this be happening now?
It’s too loud
My head is spinning
I’m off the ground
Am I living or dead?
I don’t know how I got here
Nowhere
So fast
When the faucet spits out blood
I’ll find new ways to
Wash my hands
Everybody’s got a reason to
Reprimand
I’m lonely, I’m so lonely
How can I live this way?
Social butterfly with broken wings
Do you feel the pain?
How can this be happening now?
Not now
I’m too young
I haven’t got enough clout
To black out
The sun
I got a feeling I’m not
What I could have been.
(Lyrics are Copyright © 2007 by my son, Sam D. All rights reserved.)
Note: If you would like to hear my son’s rough recording of this song, I’ve uploaded it to YouTube. You can listen to the song at this link: “Revelation”
If you are in recovery, or if you have a loved one who is in recovery, please consider sharing your story on the Heroes in Recovery website. By sharing, you can offer hope to others while doing your part to help BREAK THE STIGMA.
You can share your story in one of two ways:
1.) Go to the Heroes in Recovery page, share your story directly, and let them know Dean sent you.
2.) Contact me on Facebook (Dean Dauphinais) and I can help you through the process. Or we can talk on the phone and I can help you write your story.
Also, please feel free to share this blog or leave a comment below. I’d love to hear any feedback you might have.
Peace.
–Dean