Replay
As soon as I get in my bright red car, one of my first steps is to turn off the music.
Instead of the radio, I turn on my phone and go to my Pandora station of choice. I’ve got three set up for the specific purpose of writing, and as I pull out of the driveway, I sink into one of my favorite stories no matter which song comes on.
My playlists are carefully curated to match different story snippets and scenes I enjoy replaying in my head. Even in just the span of a single song, I can sink wholly into a story, on autopilot as I picture what happens to each character in the scene with every beat of the song. Even though I almost completely lack any sense of rhythm, I’ve got songs choreographed to the point that I know what action happens on what beat.
I can see a character dramatically drawing a sword, twirling on a dance floor, fighting a dragon, dealing with an assassination attempt, and taking an important exam - and that’s just the first five songs that came to my head. There are so many more that I’ve been creating for years, honing and refining my ideas until they meet my exacting standards.
Sometimes I’m drawn to a song by the lyrics, and other times, a beat reminds me of my story beats. No matter the song. just about any song-story combo can bolster my mood even in the toughest times. Earlier this week, as I contemplated leaving the safety of my parents’ home to return to Chicago, I started to feel nervous, and even felt tears coming on. I almost turned off one of my newest favorites as it came on. “I’m not in a good enough mood for this,” I thought, only to prove myself wrong as I was smiling by the end of the song. It pulled me out of my negativity and put the idea in my head that just like the character in my scene, I could overcome the fear facing me in that moment.
Of course, coming up with an idea for a new song-story combo is exhilarating, but I find it just as thrilling to relive the songs I’ve come up with for the fifth or even fiftieth time. If I’m in the right mood, I can go through a whole commute replaying one song the whole time, something that I’m aware would seem irrational to many people. After all, I know how the song is going to go, and how the story in my head will progress. It’s the same every time, but just like rewatching the “Lord of the Rings” movie trilogy, it’s comforting, safe, and guarantees a happy ending.
This pastime is my favorite solution for long commutes, traffic, and nearly any situation that requires waiting. I look forward to the time I can spend with my ears plugged, lost in the stories I’ve lived so many times. And even after my interest inevitably fades from a scene, I can still feel the rush of its associated song, and it still makes me smile. I rotate between my three playlists - modern, medieval, and retro - as my interests change, but I can always find solace in an old song.
I’m anticipating the need to use this technique more often in the upcoming weeks. I’m going to be returning to Chicago soon, trading out the safe, easy bubble of my parents’ home for my own apartment where I’ll have to venture out into the pandemic-ridden world a lot more than I have been. I’m working on exposure therapy to help defuse the tension of my fears, but I’m still worried about the time I’ll have to myself. I don’t have a routine for times like these, without going to work, and I know that boredom is one of my biggest triggers for negative thoughts and moods.
Although I’m going to need to turn in my two current fanfiction stories to their collection before I return, I am going to work on some of my favorite stories that always cheer me up. Maybe I’ll even write some of them down and see what people think of them; maybe I’ll expand on them in preparation for this year’s National Novel Writing Month in November.
My creativity has always been one of my favorite parts of my mental health journey. When I was younger, I saw it as a trade-off - that I could do things like sink into stories so easily because my mind gravitated to the “what if.” At various times when the world scared me, I could always find a home in my own head, even when my head was also a place of pain. I could choose to obsess about my stories, listen to a song on repeat until I know every word, and feel good.
When I come back to Chicago, my car will be in my parents’ garage, and I won’t trust public transportation, at least in the beginning. But when my mandated quarantine runs out and I can take walks, I’m sure I’ll take my headphones, and no matter what I see that scares me, I can make something beautiful.
Ellie, a writer new to the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.