Self-medication

Today's world provides a plethora of options to use to separate and soothe ourselves emotionally from the demanding, and often taxing, world around us--some healthy, some not so healthy.  In the world of a mother, who stays at home with her five children, the need occasionally often arises to separate herself from the chaos and demands of motherhood.  Some mothers might choose to read a book, others may watch a movie, some might exercise, other may go shopping.  For me, that emotional separation and ensuing reparation comes from music--specifically playing the piano.

When I was a child learning to play the piano, I remember practicing begrudgingly because my mother told me to do so.  Twenty minutes a day was my quota.  I didn't particularly like it, as most children don't like doing much of anything that isn't playful or "fun."  But somewhere along the line, in my early teenage years, I remember transitioning from having to play the piano to choosing to play the piano.  I would come home from school, immediately plop down on the piano bench, and hammer my emotions from the day onto the piano keys.  I remember the emotional connection being formulated as my internal feelings translated to the music and instrument I was playing.  From then on, playing the music changed from being just notes played on the keys to therapy.  It became an emotional release for me.  And when I stood up from the piano bench after playing a while, I could leave my earlier emotions at the piano and move forward.  I had found my self-medication.

Years of college, single life, newly married life, and raising babies went by and I found myself without a piano.  I forgot what it was like to emotionally discharge the way I had before.  Then, the stars aligned in such a way that my beautiful, childhood piano returned to me and I began to rediscover our relationship.

Once again, I find myself drawn to the piano when I'm feeling discouraged, upset, stressed out or any other emotion I'd like to escape at the time.  I pull out something familiar or start arranging an old song in a new way and let the music take me away for awhile.

I overheard my kids talking the other day as I was playing.  Kyle was trying to get my attention and Dallin said to him, "Don't bother her, Kyle.  She won't answer you anyway.  When Mom's playing the piano, it's her excuse not to answer you."  I smiled to myself.  It's true.  It's my excuse not to answer to anybody so I can take my mind to a place that's all my own and escape.

The best part about this "medication" is that it does more than simply mask my emotions like so many other emotional crutches society turns to today.  This medication actually repairs and renews my spirit, leaving me a better person than before.  I am so grateful to have it.  Grateful, indeed.