Mental Music Therapy & Health

Just a few months ago, I wrote that I was back after a year of silence. That comeback starts in 2019. This blog used to be a place for a rant of random opinions on some far-fetched ideas. Will it continue to be like this? I don't know. This blog will continue to be a stream of consciousness and basically a digital free-writing session each month.



The end of the year is meant for reflection, time to spend with family and friends and for the stereotypical new year resolutions.

Most people have the generic ones: get healthy, be more active, etc. Most are dealing with body image and a person's health, which I'm not knocking at all. This past year has also been a focus on mental health across the nation, many of these people being of the "millennial" age range
(which can we stop using this as a negative connotation? that's a new discussion meant for another post).

2019 will be a focus on mental health for me as well. However, it's not going to be through therapy, meditation, church or any third party. It's through writing (go figure, a journalist using writing) and music.

For those who are unaware, I used to DJ in college. I have a musical background, not with talent but with just my family. I'm very aware I can't sing; that still won't stop me from belting Ella Mai or Chris Brown in the car or the shower. I'm a music junkie, trying to find new artists and vibes on a regular basis. I even had a music blog for a while that I killed to focus on other areas of interest for me.

Lyrics and rhythm are a form of poetry that I truly love. In my mind, you can reach more people mentally and spiritually through music than any other platform. I have the stance on sports that I do on music:

Sports is the only thing that can unify the entire world for a short amount of time and forget about all the conflict and hardship. It's the only thing that can bring people from all races, genders, incomes, religions, ethnicities, ages, and neighborhoods to cheer someone on. What else can do that?

Well...music can. People of all backgrounds will shell out money to see a game and to see an artist perform. So, for me, how will I use music to better my mental health? No, it's not by listening to chanting monks or "yoga music" (yes, that's apparently a thing). 

I'm going to deconstruct music, studying the lyrics and why an artist decided to use a certain beat rhythm or instrumental. Obviously, this can't apply to all types of music, e.g. dubstep. For me, I'm a huge hip-hop/rap/r&b/blues/soul fan. With the trends happening in those genres, I've been vibing more so with that style lately.

I recommend this for people. To understand why you like a song outside of it just being catchy, you have to listen to what's being said. Those words can help you understand why you vibe with it. It could be related to something happening in your real life or a dream of yours. It's helped me thoroughly through the first few weeks of 2019. 

By listening to the words (and beats, because I'm that weird), I've realized that there are better ways for me to handle a certain situation or problem. It's been beyond therapeutic for me. I recommend it.

I'm still old school and haven't hopped on the Spotify train. I still own an iPod (go ahead and judge. I don't care). However, I continue to tweet constant music recommendations. If you'd like to know what's playing in my headphones, head here.

A Sharp Turn Down the Road of Life

Well, as many of you may know, I am out in Omaha, interning at WOWT in the sports department. I'm having the best summer, getting hands-on experience in a newsroom, and living the dream covering some Triple A baseball and the College World Series. Guess what; I'm not there.

After just two days in the newsroom, I started feeling very sick. I could barely keep my eyes open, because the light hurt my eyes. I was fatigued all the time, trying to fit multiple naps in somewhere throughout my day. I couldn't talk, because my throat felt swollen. My head was pounding non-stop; I didn't know what was wrong with me. I thought it was a 24-hour bug so I went in to the station the next day.

I was still not feeling well, but I was better than I was the day before. I went in to the newsroom, and I was trying to find some energy. I was getting weaker and weaker. I was using so much energy to just try and keep my eyes open. I went to a doctor, and they told me it was a sinus infection. They gave me some antibiotics, and I went on my way home.

A couple days later, I was still wasn't feeling well. I ended up getting sick while I was on the job. I went to another doctor, and they gave me different antibiotics. It did nothing; I was getting really upset, because I was missing all these days at the station without getting any better. Finally, my uncle noticed that I was red in the face and not my normal sunburn red. I looked in the mirror, and it looked like I had chicken pox all over my face. I went to a doctor for the third time. They said it was either strep or mono (mind you, I haven't had strep since I had my tonsils and anoids removed when I was 5). Doc came back after running a blood test and told me I had tested positive for mono.

Those were the hardest six words I have ever heard. Those words meant my internship was done, my part time job I had was done, and I would have to come back home to Chicago. I was balling my eyes out, knowing that the summer I was so excited for just disappeared. I went back to my uncle's house and just could not stop crying. I called my boss at the station, and he was really understanding of the whole situation. I was only in the newsroom for four days, and he still offered me the internship for next summer. That was the absolute last thing I expected; I was waiting for a "Well, it was great working with you for a short time. Feel better and enjoy your upcoming school year." Four days and I still received an internship for next summer? I was astounded.

I called my parents, and my mom flew out to come and get me on Father's Day. I just sunk into depression on the entire eight hour drive back to Chicago. Granted, I was given a second chance for next summer, but I wanted it this summer (you will come to find that I can be very impatient). I was so upset at myself for not taking care of my body throughout the entire school year. Instead, I ignored any health problem I had so I could be with friends, study, or be at WOUB on campus.

A month and 20 pounds later, I am almost over this disease. I had red dots all over my body, I lost so much weight, my hearing was damaged, and I slept for practically a month. Blood test after blood test, aspirins, constant visits to doctors; I swear Northwestern Hospital should know me by name by now. All this free time that I've had this month has helped me instead of harmed me, like I originally thought.

I have been spending this time getting healthy as a way to continue my work. I have been writing constantly, whether it's on this blog or it's a sports piece for SportsRants Women. I have been working on my memoirs non stop. While my family went on their vacation, I spent time with my grandfather (by that, I mean he spoiled me). I've found this new strength, both physical and mental, that I've never experienced. This time has taught me to think of each sharp turn down this road of life as the long way to acheiving my goals and aspirations. Eventually, I'll get there with hard work, connections, and a bit of luck. Am I happy I got mono? No, but I am happy with what this disease did to me: open my eyes a bit more and just go along for the drive on this road of life.