How the Arts Have Saved My Life

The arts are beautiful and powerful because they pause the horrific tragedies and mundane realities of life and allow the participant to enjoy a different, more relaxing part of life. The arts I specifically partake in are crocheting and music, both playing and listening to music.

Music gives me hope for the future. I can relate to the sad songs. The happy songs give me hope that things will get better. My favorite band is AJR. They are an alternative band and what I love most about them is their tunes and rhythms are very upbeat and festive, you could say. However, if you really listen to the lyrics, they are endearments from the heart. You can be partying hard, but if you stop and listen, you are dancing to “somewhere in the universe somewhere someone’s got it worse; wish that made it easier, wish I didn’t feel the hurt” or “I’ve been so good, I’ve been helpful and friendly; I’ve been so good, why am I feeling empty? I’ve been so good, but it’s still getting harder; I’ve been so good, where the hell is the karma?” They are my favorite band because this is the type of energy I try to emulate in my life. Things are not great at this moment in time, by any means. But, that doesn’t mean I can’t make my life worth living. Music gives me the strength and motivation to keep going, almost more than anything else on this earth.

Sometimes when I’m sad, music can help me express the emotion stuck inside of me. Other times, music distracts me from the sorrow I feel. I experience sadness, but I also deal with much more intense emotions. I battle with grief, loss, depression, withdrawal, anxiety, sorrow, hopelessness, darkness, emptiness, abandonment, and manipulation. The arts have saved my life.

In April 2019, just a couple of months before I graduated from high school, my friend committed suicide. It was very sudden and unexpected. It was devastating. The song that got me through that time was “Be Alright” by Dean Lewis. That song came on the radio when I was driving to his funeral, and multiple times when I was missing him extra hard.

In October 2019, six months later, to the day, my older brother, my only brother, one of the only people on this planet I truly loved, killed himself. I still have a hard time understanding it. It’s been almost two years and it still often stings as much as it did then. The song that got me through that time was “Thru These Tears” by LANY.

I have another special connection between my brother, Zach, and music. He was also an artist. He had at least five guitars and what my parents considered too much music production equipment when he died. He had even produced some songs. Now, whenever I miss the sound of his voice, I can listen to his songs. He produced music under the name Charlemagne XVI. I believe the last song he produced is “Last Call.” The quality of this song is amazing, and I would be lying if I said these lyrics don’t rip my heart out of my chest. I can only listen to his songs for so long before my face becomes a river of tears, but another song of his I listen to when I miss him is “Don’t Cry You’re Fine.”

In his song “Last Call,” he sings:

“If this was your last night on earth, what would you say?

“This is your last call. Last call for pictures hanging on the mantel piece now you’ll be missing me. Last call for dances; you’ve missed your chances; now you’ll be hating me. Now you’ll see now once I’m gone.

“Last call for the last song. What would you play? Your reality without me. Last chance before I’m gone.”

If people say that music is not powerful, I want them to listen to this song, imagining it being sung by their older brother, hearing it after he killed himself. Needless to say, this song has an effect on me literally nothing else I’ve ever heard, seen, or watched has matched.

As for his song, “Don’t Cry You’re Fine,” I cannot listen to it without crying. I don’t know what it was intended to do, but it feels like his song to me and my younger sister telling us that we’ll be okay. I wish I had known about this song. I feel like I could have stopped him. But at least he gave me this song:

“A gun at my head. My last thoughts end in lead. I won’t shed a single tear. You’re living your worst fear. You’re saying things I will never hear. It’s my last time being here.

“Don’t cry. You’re fine. I had no time. Don’t lie. You’re fine. I lost my fight. Can’t cry. You’re mine. I had to die today.

“Won’t cry. We’re fine. We had our time. Won’t lie. You’re fine. You were never mine. Can’t cry. I’m fine. I forgot when I was last alive.”

I think listening to these songs to write down the lyrics was the first time I had ever listened to them without bawling my eyes out. I am just so grateful that music is my brother’s last gift to me, and it can last forever.

My brother didn’t just give me songs to destroy my heart. He has one song with his friend called “The Ultimate Jared (feat. Mr. Steazy).” I’ll admit, it’s not the highest quality or most artistic of songs. But I cannot listen to this song without laughing. I don’t know how much effort he put into this song, but it is one of the legitimately funniest things I have ever heard. At one point, he is laughing through his words, his voice cracks a couple times, and towards the end I don’t think he knows what key he is singing in. At one point, I think he just mumbles the words. In one line, I think he hits three different octaves. This song heals my soul after having been wrecked by his other songs. His friend, Landon, Mr. Steazy, if you will, is labeled as featured but I’m pretty sure his only line is making Zach laugh during the middle and yelling “yeah” at the end. Yet again, music provides me a way to remember what it felt like to have him here with me.

Music has always been very important to me. After my brother’s death, that importance only increased. Zach may not have had the most talent or skill regarding music, but he certainly had passion for it. He had two acoustic guitars, an electric bass, and three electric guitars, one of which was Hello Kitty themed and only had about 2 strings on it. My older sister got his coolest electric guitar, I got another one of his electrics, our cousin got one of his acoustics, and my little sister inherited the rest, though they are still at my parents’ house.

Since his death, I have finally tried my hand at songwriting, which was something I wanted to do for a long time. I am very busy, still being in college and trying not to be poor and what not, but I have found some time to jot down my thoughts lyrically. Every time, it makes me feel much closer to my brother. My parents live very close to his grave, but I now live almost 2 hours away. At any rate, I don’t love the concept of going to his grave to talk to him. I prefer to just talk to him as if he were around. While writing music, I feel especially close to him. It’s a special connection I feel we share. While playing his guitar and using his amp, I also feel very close to him. The older I get, the more special meanings music takes on in my life.

A lot of times, one song kind of represents an occasion or important moment in my life. A core memory, if you will, if you are familiar with the movie “Inside Out.” I’ve already listed a couple of these. Another one is “When She Loved Me” from Toy Story 2, specifically the version by Bridgit Mendler. This, I feel, accurately describes my relationship with my older sister. This is one topic I write about a lot. Through songs, journaling, poetry, any kind of method, I have tried to get these feelings out of my body and onto paper. Basically, I idolized my older sister growing up. Being 5 ½ years older than me, I thought she was the be-all and see-all of creation. She was everything I aspired to be. Unfortunately, she did not reciprocate.

It took years, almost decades, for me to realize that she didn’t treat me the way I had imagined her treating me. I fell asleep in her room every night for years. For some reason, I refused to fall asleep in my bed when my little sister slept in her crib in there. My favorite animal was a monkey because hers was a monkey. I wanted to be artsy because she was artsy. I wanted to play the piano well because she could play the piano well. When I needed glasses, I got glasses like hers. When she was doing her homework, I would take out a clipboard and just scribble on it because I wanted to be like her.

I understand now that she struggled with depression and anxiety. Yet, I feel like she always showed me a cold shoulder. It’s not just her personality, because she showered my little sister with affection. One theory is that since I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at the age of 22 months, I started getting a lot more attention from my parents. Yes, we have theories, because the rest of my immediate family has noticed this tension.

I don’t want to spend too much time on this because though writing about it helps to diffuse my feelings, this is not the place to delve into that. To summarize, I idolized her when I was little, she did not reciprocate, I always tried to prove myself to her growing up but it was never enough, she did not support me, she laughed at me when I tried to tell her how she had hurt my feelings in the past, etc.

Things only got worse when she went to college. She obviously wanted to get away from us, but she didn’t like the people at college, so she was always just unhappy. There was no end to her complaint. That’s probably what it feels like here, but I promise there is an end to this rant. When she came home, she would complain about how we were boring and weren’t entertaining her. Anytime we went anywhere she would complain about how far away everything is in the suburbs. It got quite annoying.

The summer of 2019, my sister was dating some guy from a dating app. About a week and a half later, they were engaged. Now this man and I, we do not get along. I am a very private person. I am very hesitant to trust people, probably because of my relationship with certain people, and this man was thrust into my life. I did not appreciate that. What I especially didn’t appreciate is how he expected me to treat him like my brother immediately. Our personalities just do not mesh well, and he was forced into my personal life. So, there was little hope this was going to turn out well. Then, my brother killed himself. Four days later, this stranger became my relative. That first week was okay between us because we all needed each other. Inevitably, tensions again rose.

As for the song, every time I hear it, I think of my sister. Growing up, I wanted her to love me so badly. Maybe she did. She claims she did. Looking back, I don’t recognize it, but maybe it was there. But when she went to college, she definitely left me behind for better things. She often told me that I would never be her bridesmaid once she got married. She once told me to my face that she loved her then-boyfriend’s family so much she wanted them to adopt her. When I was little, I told her I had played a soccer game against our neighbor and she said if she had been at the game, she would have cheered for the neighbor. I hated that neighbor’s older sister growing up. She was only a year older than me, but she was my sister’s best friend. I couldn’t stand that. I was never good enough for my sister. Yet, I still held out hope that the tables would turn. Maybe someday, she would love me. But as the years went by, the distance between us only grew.

I was there to dry her tears, but she caused many of mine. When she was happy, so was I. When I was happy, she told me to stop being annoying. When she was lonely, I was there to comfort her. When I was lonely, she wasn’t there, to remind me that I wasn’t her best offer. “Soon the years went by I stayed the same, she began to drift away. I was left alone. Still I waited for the day, when she’d say, ‘I will always love you.’” She did look my way again, but only when she wanted something from me. Now, she’s basically disowned our family. I haven’t seen or spoken to my sister since Christmas. Actually, since she didn’t show up for my birthday. I haven’t spoken to her husband since months before that, after he deeply offended me and instead of apologizing acted like nothing ever happened.

I could probably talk forever about the ways my older sister has affected me, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, this song always gave me a strange sense of comfort. Even though in the movie a doll is singing the song, I guess it made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It reminded me that other people have also been hurt by people that they loved. People whom they loved more than loved them.

Sometimes when I’m sad, music can help me express the emotion stuck inside of me. Other times, music distracts me from the sorrow I feel. When I become really frustrated, banging out an intense song on the piano or violin is extremely refreshing. Sometimes when I’m really overwhelmed, I feel like I need a brain reset. The most effective way I have found to “reset my brain” is to play some songs on the piano, violin, ukulele, or guitar. For some reason I still don’t understand, plucking a song on the guitar refreshes my brain in a way nothing else on earth can.

My faith and religion have always been important parts of my life. One way I connect with my spirituality the strongest is through music. Singing hymns during church has always been my favorite part of the church service. Just as music helps me get in touch with my sorrowful emotions, it too helps me explore my spirituality. Spiritual or gospel music truly is something special in this world. I feel as though I am transported to a different realm while listening to worship music. In all the chaos of the world, I depend on that escape.

One of my favorite genres of music has always been Christmas music. If I think about it, when someone asks me what my favorite types of music are, I should answer alternative, show tunes, pop, and Christmas music. I love Christmas. I used to be in the class that believed Christmas is reserved for after Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving and absolutely think we should give it the attention it deserves, but there is no bopping Thanksgiving music. Yes, I just used the word bopping. This could be considered a crime of humanity—playing the Christmas music too early, I mean, not using the word bopping—but I’ll settle for it being acceptable to listen to Christmas music in November. My new school of thought is that if something makes someone happy and it doesn’t harm anyone else, go for it. If I am making my lunch in April and I want to listen to a Christmas album, there is no problem with that. And if someone really has a problem with that, I think they have more deep-seated problems that they should deal with before they come at me and my Christmas music. I love Christmas music year-round because it just makes me happy. Living in today’s world, if you can find something that never fails to bring you joy, hold onto it. That is precious.

To deviate from music for a moment, another one of my favorite hobbies and activities in the world is crocheting. My grandma taught me how to crochet washrags when I was in sixth grade (when I was about 11 years old). Through the years, I managed to teach myself a lot through instruction books, YouTube videos, Pinterest tutorials, and a lot of trial and error. My most recent project was a giant octopus that I made for my little sister for her birthday. I loved it so much I made myself one, too.

I suppose my actually most recent crochet project is an amigurumi hippo. The other day, I got really sad, so I decided to crochet myself a little hippo friend. I absolutely love that I can do that. This world is hard. It’s stressful. It can be a bit much at times. I still sleep with a stuffed animal each and every night because I need the childhood comfort they bring. Crocheting brings me that same giddiness and innocent joy. There is just something so pure and precious about crochet, especially crochet amigurumi. I just have to look at one of my projects to remember that there is still some good in this world, even if it’s just a bunch of yarn, stuffing, and safety eyes. Sometimes, I really need that hope. My college apartment is full of my amigurumi because I want to see it all over my home. I have two crocheted pillows in the living room, crocheted succulents in the kitchen, a jellyfish in my closet, a pig on my desk, a giant octopus on my bed, and I have a lot more at my parent’s house.

I have always struggled making friends. As I’m writing this, I can hear my roommates bonding through the walls. I don’t know why, but I can never make connections that stick. This may sound pathetic, but it’s where I’m at: if I can’t make friends, then I’ll just make friends. That is, if I can’t manage to form sincere connections with people around me, I’ll just crochet little friends for myself. With my horrible history of trying to trust and connect with people, paired with my stress and depression and anxiety and busy schedule, it’s so much easier to just befriend my own crocheted creations. They are great cuddle buddies, they don’t judge me, they are always there when I need them, they listen to me, and they provide me comfort without having to put in effort. Again, someone might read this and think that’s really pathetic and sad. But the truth is, this is what I need in a friend. If I can get this from an adorable thing of yarn and stuffing without all the drama—yes, please. If anything, this is my suggestion to you to go get your own amigurumi or stuffed animal (insert Etsy shop link here).

I’m not exaggerating when I say that the arts have saved my life. There are a few things that have gotten me to this point in my life: my family, God, music, and crocheting. And, if I’m being honest, probably writing. I think I would explode if I just kept all of these thoughts inside of me. It’s probably not the best idea to go around spilling all this personal trauma on a first date, so it’s probably best to stick with paper and pen, or word document and keyboard.

Music suspends reality for a moment. Crocheting puts me in an altered state where it’s easier to see the good in the world. I was diagnosed with a chronic, life-threatening illness at 22 months. I have dealt with anxiety and depression for most of my life. I have always struggled making friends. In the past two years (and a little more) alone, my friend committed suicide, my (emotionally abusive) sister thrust her (emotionally abusive) fiancé into my life, I graduated high school and moved away to college, my brother committed suicide, four days later my sister married aforementioned man that I do not get along with, my friend group abandoned me, I went into a deep depression, I have been abandoned by two more friend groups, a global pandemic hit, that same sister disowned our family, and my parents are in the process of selling my childhood home. That’s a lot to handle.

Believe me when I say that my parents, grandparents, little sister (and best friend), God, playing music, listening to music, and crochet have literally saved my life. Without any one of those things, I don’t think I could still be here today. With all that I’ve gone through, especially recently, it’s easy to see no hope for the future. No light up ahead. Looking at my little crocheted succulents, squeezing my big octopus with her adorable little hairbow, listening to AJR, with my starry night painted ukulele by my side, it’s a lot easier to believe that things will get better.

Though I can’t make a living out of the arts, every day of my life, I strive to make the arts a huge part of my life. I have five stuffed animals on my bed with a quilt my grandma made me 12 years ago. My guitar is on a stand next to my bed. My ukulele and violin are under my bed. I have a keyboard in the living room. I already mentioned all my crocheted decorations. I put color pretty much anywhere I can. I put up posters and a calendar on my walls, so they didn’t look so much like the walls of an insane asylum.

I adore the arts. My arts and the ones I can only dream of every being able to participate in. They are truly what make life worth living. Any satisfaction I can get from the arts—monetary, emotional, spiritual, decorative—whatever it is, that gain means more to me than anything else. The arts give me life and they have saved my life.

For those interested, I do have a growing Etsy shop you can visit at https://www.etsy.com/shop/KenzCrochetions?ref=profile_header