I’ve been in the emergency psych ward for about 24 hours. There’s not much to do besides talking to other patients, and I’m feeling restless. I have three songs from Wave, the latest Patrick Watson album.
One of the romantic things Heaven and Driver did when they weren't Frenching in the driveway was make mixtapes for each other. I helped. One summer afternoon, Driver and I made a tape for Heaven.
It is a source of quiet pride – and privilege - that nearly a dozen contributors to Stereo Stories have entrusted their accounts of mental health with us.
Dreaming made the emptiness I felt less demanding, but there was a hole inside of me. The Trophy Eyes song helps me find my way.
Every morning he switches on the radio to my favourite station. He hopes it will help. Most of the time I barely notice it.
I had always imagined myself with tattoos. I saw myself covered in blackwork ink, beautiful artwork, and lyrics that meant something – but I was scared about getting one. With your first tattoo, you don't know what to expect. Is it painful? What if it gets infected? What if it turns out terribly?
The songs met us in hope and in despair in 'the middle of the air'. There was a space of yearning there. That space is where the artists, songwriters and psalmists send us. That is the place we can be met.
My father's smirk also comes from the fact it's one of the few Neil Young songs I've introduced to him.
If you can mark your steps in the grooves of your favourite records – and we can, of course – then there will always be those songs that guide you in your leaps of faith until you land, safe and sure footed, on the other side.
I am free to find new horizons and make them mine. I am more than my bullies ever imagined and becoming more with each passing day. I refuse to let the past define me.