Words

To say it’s been a long time is a shameful understatement.

I am sorry.

How are you? I am thankful for all your messages… you are so thoughtful, checking in on me and making sure I’m still alive. I am.

Here’s how I really am. I’m terrified. I’m afraid. So so afraid. Of pain, of depression, of rejection. I’m also very happy. I’m also really tired.

If you’re confused, I don’t blame you. Here’s the quick back story.

I worked hard for 15 years to build an amazing career in music. I didn’t have parents bank rolling me, or family members in the industry, or musical training. I had my guitar, my supportive HusBand, and a totally ridiculous dream. I went for it. I kept going for it. It hurt on a daily basis and also sometimes felt like I was flying.

My first album, The Cricket’s Orchestra, went further than I ever thought it would. I traveled to places I never thought I would, met my idols, got on stages bigger than me, and mostly I got addicted to being connected to you. So I made my second album, Have A Heart. I poured everything I had into it. I made everyone believe in it. They did, they invested, it was going to be amazing.

And then I found out I was pregnant. Friends who traveled this road before me assured me it would all be fine. Just tour while I was pregnant and six weeks after birthing baby, get back out there. Yes, it would be hard, but not impossible. I had put so much into this album. I had to get back out there and work it.

Then I started throwing up. I kept throwing up for eight months. I spent some serious time in the hospital as I slowly turned paler shades of pale. And at the same time, I fell in a deep, deep love with the little being who was destroying my musical plans.

Then he was born. It was traumatic. It was by far the most painful and horrific experience of my life. It was also the most euphoric. But I didn’t heal like everyone said I would due to unusual complications. I couldn’t walk for 2 months. I then had to go to a lot of Dr appointments and stay close to home for 8 months.

And that was all it took to kill my album. By then it was too late to invest in touring it. It was old news. I had let everyone who I convinced to invest in me down. It was the biggest failure of my life.

I had never fallen more in love than I did with my baby boy. My God, it breaks my heart how much I love him. Many days I feel like I can’t contain it… Like it’s the size of the universe and I’m just the size of… me. But I was also absolutely heartbroken over the crash of my album. It was a heartbreak that I don’t think will ever go away.

I floundered as I struggled to heal and to figure out what to do musically next while being the best momma I could to my best little blue eyed, golden haired boy. My team bailed, unable to make money off me if I wasn’t touring. I got it. They had to go. I waved goodbye with tears in my eyes as my manager, record label, and other agents moved on.

And now, I’m about to do this again. My belly is growing, and (I know this sounds silly but) the realization that this new little baby has to come out of me is the brightest, most beautiful looming darkness on my horizon. I can’t wait to feel the atomic love bomb of motherhood again, but I am beyond terrified of the rest of it.

You say things to me like, “Please don’t ever quit music, it means so much to me!” and “I miss your voice,” and “Your songs changed my life,” and “You got me through my divorce/brain cancer/ the death of my child.” And I want more than I can say to keep making music for you. I just don’t know how. My boys come first. My HusBand and my two little sons (Yep! It’s another boy!!). Touring isn’t good for the lifestyle we want to have. But I still want to connect to you. I still want to be with you. How? How? How? I ask myself this every day.

So this is it. This is where I am. I hope you don’t mind my vulnerability. I refuse to be unauthentic and make you think my life is perfect and a mystery. It isn’t. It’s a bloody struggle every day to keep going. Like a flower blooming in the cracks of the pavement. Yours is too, I know. Can we struggle together? How?

I miss you.