I did a very strange thing at work last week.
You see, there has been a lot swirling around my little head for the past month. This autumn season brought a few too many reasons for my heart to bruise, a series of disappointments in the ways people around me have chosen to behave.
Of course, the tenderness wouldn’t be there if I didn’t love everyone so dearly, but alas, against my better judgment, I do. I love the little egos and quirks, the posturing, the stammering, the false bravado and anxiety. And yes, even when someone says something very painful to me with a smile on their face, I love them because all I can see is the person behind them who once did the very same to them. And yes, even when people lie to me, I love them because I remember what it was like to be afraid to tell the truth. And yes, even when people try to stifle my brightness, I love them because I know what it feels like to think you are somehow less than, to feel like you can never be enough.
Still, there is only so much a woman can bear in silence. So, my dearest reader, this week at work, a captive audience at hand, I sang. I sang that bruised, little heart out, no accompaniment, just me and my voice, reverberating in a suddenly hushed office space.
But it wasn’t all anguish, dear reader. I also sang with great triumph. You see, on that same day, just a few hours before I burst into song, I hit a personal milestone. A very big personal milestone. One I had difficulty believing I would ever reach, but I had done it. I had done it by putting in the work, day after grueling day, even as I was eaten alive by self-doubt. Many, many dark nights of the soul have passed since I started this journey, but some way, somehow, I have come through it. I have completed the cycle. And isn’t that reason enough to sing?
On the elevator down from my office, an Irish goodbye after my little performance, one of my coworkers, someone who had been working down the hall when I began singing, turned to me with a smile. “It’s funny,” she said. “I did a double-take when I heard you singing. It’s one of those sounds you just don’t hear in an office. Like when someone brings a baby into work, and you hear the baby laughing. You don’t expect to hear that kind of noise in an office setting so it can be… jarring.”
But why? Why is it so jarring? Why don’t we sing more and dance more and laugh more and bring our babies into the office more? Why? Why must we be instead quiet and rigid and stressed and angry and upset and unhappy when there is so much light and happiness in this world too? Why? Did we learn nothing from the pandemic?
Well, I know what I learned from that experience. I learned that there is no time for us to waste with absorbing or generating negativity. I am no longer interested in that game.
Love and connection – these are the only two things that matter in life. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. And if you take a second to lift your head up, you’ll remember that the world has both in spades.
But I understand. It took me a long time to learn how to lift my head up again. The good news is we were all born knowing how to do it. You’ve just forgotten. Don’t worry though. I’ll be here, singing you a song to remind you what your heart longs to do – just look up.
Music Corner: Well, of course, the song I sang at work was Praying by Kesha, a song I last sang without accompaniment to another group of people four years ago under far darker circumstances. But here’s some fun and lightness to even it all out 🙂 Remember, I love you!
Originally posted on LinkedIn.
