Healing comes in different stages and different ways. Mine has always revolved around a good rhythm.
"Emeka, turn down the volume of that speaker" my Mum would say. She knew it was the one thing that could keep me all day confined within the enclosure of my room, while I envisaged a perfect world, a world devoid of the inexplicable burden laid in my heart.
I would reluctantly turn down the volume which seemed quite low to me. But you wouldn't want to argue with an African parent, no one in his/her right state of mind would want to.
She was the outgoing, gleeful type and well, I was the calm one with the mood swings.
"What's wrong?" She would usually get into my room to ask.
"I don't get, what do you mean?"
"You always seem moody" my Mum replied.
She knew there was always something off about me, something she couldn't quite lay her fingers on.
My response gave the impression that I had no Idea of what she was saying and everything was perfectly fine. But mothers can see right through you just as much as you see right through yourself.
"I'm okay, I've been like this right from time, haven't I?"
"Few minutes ago, you were just laughing and cracking jokes, all of a sudden, you seem so sad"
"Mummy, I'm okay. Just need to relax"
"Hmmm... Okay, if you say so" she said, closing the door behind her while I just sat in my bed reminiscing about life and purpose. She was somewhat different from the average African parents who were insensitive to the behavioural and emotional state of their loved ones.
I guess at some point, everyone needs a space or a personal zone where they can just reason out life, reflect and re-construct things in their minds. But how could I transition into this abstract zone without a little bit of music. Yeah! Music was my sanity therapy.
"Emeka, hope you know you're the most quiet in this room?" Stephen, my roommate in the college hostel would usually say to me.
"That's a lie, you're the most quiet." I replied.
We would both go on and on about who the most quiet was, asking other colleagues to compare and contrast so as to arrive at a conclusion.
It all got to a point where Stephen realized that I just had certain days where I needed to be alone with my music box placed right beside me of course.
"You and this your music." He'd say.
I would just give a brief giggle as an indicate that I wasn't in the mood for discussion. I didn't want anything or anyone interrupting my thought process.
"Download circles by Riley pierce" Stephen said a certain day. He realised that once I was in that music zone, my thought game had begun. He had the same understanding as my Mum and I guess that's why we both went along.
" Circles by Riii..."
"Riley pierce!" He'd cut in, saving me the stress of searching the artist."
" Thanks a lot man"
"You're welcome" he replied. He knew music meant a lot to me, he knew it was my survival strategy in my darkest and loneliest hours.
" I love the songs you play you've got great taste in music" he'd usually say upon listening to the list of songs which played out of my speaker.
"Thank you. Have you Heard of this song by Billie Eilish" I'd start narrating and explaining how awesome the lyrics of the song was. It was the only one thing that could bring life to my spirit once I got into that dark zone and Stephen clearly understood this.
I loved artists like Billie ellish, Ruth B, Benson boone, Callum Scott, isak Danielson and of course the legendary Michael Jackson! Their lyrics and melody all resonated with me.
You can't be around me and not understand how therapeutic music is to me.
At some point, some of my colleagues came around, spent one or two days in my room and were like...
"You're strange, how can you stay almost a whole day streaming songs on YouTube"
"You won't understand" I'd just reply. I didn't see the need explaining to people who already paint you as weird just because you you're doing what makes you happy.
At some point I got into a heated argument with them, just for doing the thing I love.
"Can't you just mind your business! Is the music affecting you? Besides you're the one who came to my room, I never coerced you to"
"Oh! Is it because I'm in your room? Perhaps that's why you're acting all tough and bossy"
I sighed and took in a deep breath. I was surprised to see how Ebuka, my friend, would say something like that. If there was one thing about me: I stayed away from arguments.
"You don't even ..."
He continued, while I waited for him to finish ranting so I could peacefully get back to my music. Afterall, George Herbert once said: "Be calm in arguing; for fierceness makes error a fault, and truth discourtesy."
Everyone has their coping mechanisms; for some it's football, for some its movies while mine was music.
Music has been my healing therapy, restoring my mind to that state of normalcy and peace. It creates an atmosphere where I can let go of my sorrows and every dark emotion lurking within.
During the last conversation I had with my Mum about the therapeutic effect of music, I was like...
"If not for music, I would have been in the psychiatric hospital"
She just laughed and wore a smile on her face.