I Could Not Have Survived My Childhood
If not for the magic of music
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” — Frederick Nietzsche
There was so much noise in my house growing up. So much screaming and hitting and yelling and punching. It was unbearable at times! What I discovered was that music could drown out a lot of the arguing between my mother and stepfather. Music truly does soothe the savage beast.
Before music, books provided me comfort. It was difficult to have music in my room, but books I could hide under my pillow or in my drawer. Books were my lifeline to another world, another dimension. We only had a library visit once a week from school and it was important to pick out enough books to make them last until the following week.
I would smile as I ran home from school with my library books tucked carefully inside my backpack. I would get excited whenever we had to write something for class, like a book report or a short story. I have always loved writing, but I loved reading even more.
Books were my escape from my world of the damned. They helped to give me courage, faith and hope. There was never enough time to read all the books I checked out from the library, but I enjoyed the challenge of reading as many books as possible before they had to be returned to the library.
Books provided my safety zone but music became my salvation. When my parents were away from home, I would turn up the hi-fi stereo as loud as possible and listen to any music we had available.
Most of our music back then consisted of Mitch Miller and the Gang singing some wonderful polka music like Roll Out the Barrels and Apple Blossom Time. Some of my favorites were Teresa Brewer with her Mutual Admiration Society and Music Music Music. I especially loved Patsy Cline with Crazy and I Fall to Pieces. There were many others like Hank Williams with his Cheatin’ Heart, but the song that always makes me tear up is: I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry. I still can’t listen to it without some waterworks escaping my eyes.
When I was twelve years old, I received a transistor radio for my birthday. It was the best gift ever! Then I could dance around my bedroom listening to the music that I loved so much or sometimes just curl up on my bed singing the lyrics out loud. It was great fun for a little while.
I was and I still am a doo-wop fan, along with all of the oldies going back to the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s.
There are many songs from back then that are still in my heart today. I know most of the lyrics by heart which drives my friends crazy. Sometimes the songs feel as if they were written just for me. Sometimes the songs would transport me back in time to a memory or a feeling.
The power of music can be amazing—all kinds of music.
When I was dancing around the living room with no one to watch me, I was transformed. I felt at peace with myself and the world.
There was no terror waiting for me at night in my bedroom. There was no noise from the domestic arguments that would begin later in my home. It was easy to block out all of the anxiety that would soon start up again. It was a blessing to forget all the yelling and hitting.
When I was in my bed listening to the songs on my transistor radio, it was much easier to stay calm when the arguments began between my mother and my stepfather. I was less anxious when I could drown out the yelling and the hitting with my music. The songs would comfort me like a lullaby. Sometimes I would fall asleep for a few hours and forget about the screaming and the violence. Sometimes I could pretend while my songs would console me and help me stay calm. Sometimes the music was all I needed to help soothe me and protect me.
I hope your childhood was not as traumatic as mine. If you relate to my story, were you able to find a coping mechanism that eased your suffering? If you would like to share what it was, I am always interested in hearing what helped other survivors.
Take a peek at two of my favorite authors: Lena Ann and Sam Finlayson.
