A Secret I Have Kept

It felt like I was in a dream. I pulled my new-to-me iPhone 4S out of my pocket to capture the moment so that later I’d know for sure it was real. I kept the flash off, using the stage lights only and angling my phone just so in order to avoid the glare. I guess all those years getting a Fine Arts degree weren’t completely for naught. My heart felt so full I didn’t know whether to laugh, smile, or cry. An hour before, I’d been part of the VIP lineup to meet and take a photograph with the band, my mother’s words echoing in my ears. “You get a hug from him, don’t leave without it.” When my turn came to meet them, I squeaked out my request - twice, since he didn’t hear me the first time. He laughed, told me I was cute, and gave me a hug. I tried not to smile like an idiot for the photo, knowing this moment would take at least a week for me to fully process.

So there I was, pressed up at the front of the crowd, up against the guard to keep us back from the stage, barely able to move let alone reposition my legs to be more comfortable. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, this man who meant so much to me and didn’t even know it. Every time he’d come towards the front of the stage my heart would leap a little bit. I just wanted to talk to him, I wanted him to know. Then, unexpectedly, he bent down, put a hand on my shoulder, and softly said “how are you doing?”

“Good,” I squeaked, apparently I was becoming a mouse for the evening. He grinned before belting out the rest of the song into my ear. It was worth it for the temporary ringing in my ears that night. Was I good? It was the fastest, most habitual answer. An automatic knee jerk response built into a habit from years of customer service. A more hilarious answer would’ve been to tell him that my knees went weak the moment he made eye contact, or that I could officially die happy, something fangirly and funny. The real answer? I couldn’t believe I was there for that interaction to even happen.

Let’s get a few things straight here. This isn't your average fangirl at her favourite concert moment. I had seen him perform at a nightclub back when I was in university. Sure, seeing his band back on tour almost 20 years after they stopped making albums was a rare thing and yes, having VIP tickets was a first for me. However, this concert was so much more than that. To explain it fully, we have to go back to 2001, when Morning Orbit was released and the single Black Black Heart was all over the airwaves.

I was twelve years old at the time and had a habit of getting home from school, shutting myself in my room, and turning the radio on. I’d listen to whatever the local rock station had to offer and do my homework, write stories, and generally just hang out until dinner time. One this particular day, however, I’d gone into my room, locked my door, turned on the radio, and intended to kill myself.

All these years later I have no idea what made me come to that conclusion. I had depression, yes, and back in 2001 that wasn’t something easily talked about, especially as a young kid, and it certainly wasn’t something I could take to my parents to have confirmed and treated. As mentioned, I was twelve, maybe a month shy of my thirteenth birthday and at that point in my life I was chubby, awkward, asthmatic, wore glasses, and was about to get braces. I know no one ever actively bullied me, but I also know I didn’t fit in. Classmates mocked me for the size of my legs, for my glasses, for getting good grades and actually caring about school. I was done. Too far from graduation to simply run off to university, too young to drive, and in too small of a town to change schools.

So there I was, ready to be done with life for a multitude of reasons that I cannot remember at present and perfectly fine with ending my own life. I’m not going into detail about my methods or what I was doing, it is dark enough to know of a child trying to commit suicide. I will say, however, that in the middle of my process something caught my attention. A song on the radio. A song that felt like it was reaching out and taking my hand. A song that was agreeing with me that yes, things were terrible but that it was going to be okay.

Black black heart why would you offer more

Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy

I'm on fire...

I stopped what I was doing to listen to the song and ended up blacking out on my bed, abandoning the task I’d been determined to do. In later years I’d joke that I was only still hanging around because I was waiting to see what he’d come out with next. It was partially true, there was always a well-timed album release or new single dropped every few years to look forward to when things got particularly dark.

As I stood there almost fifteen years later, trying to hold back the tears of so many emotions, I tried to imagine if twelve year old me could have ever pictured herself there. I wanted to tell him that he had inadvertently saved my life but I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing it. So I just stood still, smiling and singing along and taking photos with my phone. I hoped at least one would be decent yet knew that even if every last shot was blurry, I’d never forget this moment.