My melancholic teenage playlist

Going up the wooden stairs to the shared living quarters of my fellow youth in the shelter, my senses were overwhelmed by the loudest speaker setting of a CD/radio player being stuck in a loop.

I was going to take a shower but we all had a scheduled time for it and couldn’t take more than the allotted time.

The girl was decidedly older than I, her braids long and her eyes sullen as she seemed to know every word of the replayed song.

It sounded like one of the chipmunks, like Alvin… maybe Simon… or Theodore?

Who knew? All I knew is the song was so melancholy. It fit our situation. I saw our situation but I didn’t really know her. But, she was playing it so loud it felt like a soundtrack to all of our lives. My life. It was a lovelorn, broken-hearted ballad.

It was Mr. Lonely by Akon.

The memory of the constantly repeated song, so loud and so longingly sung by the girl that lived in the youth shelter I lived in for a brief, deeply troubling period as a teen (it was Youth in Need), is something I can never ever forget and I love this song because it makes me nostalgic and feel sad in a way that almost feels cathartic.

A shared feeling of loneliness without the stress of being alone. Those memories of Youth in Need are truly unforgettable. Of trying my first Dairy Queen double chocolate cookie dough blizzards (“They’re the best! The only way to eat cookie dough!” Everyone in the van would tell me in our field trips), preparing my first chicken meals and cutting up raw fresh chicken on a cutting board, and singing to Nelly(“Girl, I think my butt gettin’ big!”) loudly and watching BET all day long and laughing with everyone, & even having a great time watching horror films like Jason late at night.

My father and I have a deep relationship based on long drives and fishing trips.

This is truly how I found my love of nature, fly fishing, how to use nature and outdoor activities with family as a healthy way to cope with depression and anxiety and how I felt my father’s true unconditional love and affection.

In my dad’s pickup truck, he’d take me on early morning drives to Meramac Springs and we’d fish when the bell rang to catch as many trout as possible.

We have many songs that I feel are a part of my childhood that I feel are a big part of my life.

Sweet Melissa is one my dad dedicated to me as he calls me this, as well as, “Moo-Moos,” though I don’t understand that last name, haha, but still, I remember him playing this song on a tape in his pickup all the time for me, and saying this was my song. Our family had a tough time after I turned 11, and because of a sudden shift in family dynamics, my dad had to take the reins and take care of me and my two twin sisters. He would always make sure he’d be there for us, all of us, and to give us fatherly love and care. He had given me a hand written letter in my youth that I cherished that was simply that he wanted to find some time in the following weeks to do fun things with me, like take me and a friend to the movies, take me fishing and that he believed I was going to make it through this tough time and he’d be there for me. That letter meant more to me than any thing in the world, more than what you can buy or show off, it was made with love.

South American Getaway was the soundtrack of my early childhood that encompassed how much I enjoyed dancing. Well, being a young little girl and dancing on my father’s feet. Especially to this song.

My Aunt Fern was someone who also was a huge support in this rough patch and an integral part of my childhood growing up.

She had a large house in that had tons of rooms, a large sitting room with a piano and a huge outdoor pool and patio that we always used every summer for barbecues and parties.

It was one such time that made an impact on me musically with her that I will relay to all of you.

I was going through a deep depression during this time and she was driving me to get my nails done, when she started playing the most soothing, ethereal, out of this world music I felt brought me to a new dimension. It relieved me, it made me feel weightless, limitless and blue in a way that was new and free.

“This is Enya,” she told me, “the song is… Only Time.”

And the rest is history.