I have been out of the music game for a while…quite a while, really. It’s been over a year since I was practicing or performing regularly, before which I was practicing, writing, performing, or some combination of the three every week.
I didn’t choose the hiatus, but life got complicated and I had to set music aside for much of the last year. Then as things cleared up, suddenly my teenaged kids had a million plans and dreams that required a chauffeur and, at times, a guardian. Their schedule has now become the main schedule in my household, and for several months I’ve been clearing my own calendar to give myself time to figure out this new rhythm of our lives.
I thought I was good with this situation - I really did - until this weekend. I mean, was I experiencing seasonal affective disorder for the first time in my life? Was I waking up grumpy every morning? Was I frustrated and grasping at control even though I know better? Sure, but come on. The world is a dumpster fire and it’s been the coldest, blizzardiest January ever. I thought that was all it was.
Plus maybe a bit of the ol’ perimenopause making her introduction.
But this weekend I spent my time at the Hibernate Festival in Port Hope, surrounded by my music community, playing some shows and attending a bunch more. It became very clear very quickly that my soul is aching for music. I need to get back at it. By the end of soundcheck before the first concert I was already giddy. And beyond the fun of performing, I was reminded that music does more for me than any other way I spend my time.
I sang two songs Friday night, and suddenly I had some perspective again on what matters in life. Suddenly I noticed the rigid pattern I had fallen back into where I try to control everything because I’m really smart and capable and obviously things will go best if I manage them.
Suddenly I could breathe, and I found myself looking forward to the next day for the first time in weeks. Suddenly the anxious buzzing feeling I’d been carrying around in my chest lifted.
It was startling how crystal clear the message was: I need music and my music community.
I have been trying to stay creative at home, writing, sewing, and learning how to record my songs. I thought it would be enough, that as long as I stayed connected to some sort of creativity I’d be fulfilled.
My soul has declared otherwise.
“You owe it to all of us to get on with what you’re good at,” says W.H. Auden. I would add “If you hold yourself back from what you’re good at, what lights you up, no one will thank you for your grumpy-ass, depressed presence.”
Slowly dying inside is no way to be a mom; my kids don’t ask that of me and they love nothing more than to see me happy and vibrant. So I’m done telling myself I can’t book shows because I need to be on call to accommodate the needs of my kids. I’m done telling myself it’s only a couple more years before my kids leave home and prioritizing them at my own expense is reasonable.
I’m done telling myself my passion and happiness can’t fit into our hectic family life. We’ll make it fit, together, my family and I.
And I’m getting back in the game.
xo
Shannon
Upcoming Shows
March 15 - Sunday Song Circle
Old Camborne Schoolhouse
1-3pm
Let’s make some music together, shall we?
April 26 - Sustainability Expo (Port Hope)
More details TBD
SAVE THE DATE - May 9
More details coming soon
Featured Podcast - Word on the Hills
I had the pleasure of chatting with Felicity Sidnell Reid and Gwynn Scheltema a few weeks ago. Don’t be surprised if the topic of my kids and how I’ve shaped my life around them was part of the chat - I only discovered the error of my ways two days ago! You can listen here.