1989 was a tricky year. 20 years old. The aftermath of 19 still fresh on my insides, and outsides. I was living life like there was no tomorrow while carrying scars from all my yesterdays, ones that were recent, and ones from my childhood. I wasn’t jaded though. Not yet. Maybe I should have been.

I am becoming so jaded now.

Today’s Song of the Day is from 1989. I listen and feel that self again. I’m envious of how hopeful she was, despite all the things that had happened. I’m envious at how much she believed in the future, in love, and in understanding. At least I still have the music she had. I’m grateful for that. And that I keep myself open for more music. Always more music.

But, for today, I’m looking backward. Pulling a song from 20-year old me’s collection. One of her favorites.

“A Strange Kind of Love (Version 1)” by Peter Murphy
from the album, Deep (1989)
Song of the Day

“This is no terror ground,
or place for the rage,
no broken hearts,
whitewash lies.
Just a taste for the truth,
perfect taste choice and meaning.
A look into your eyes.”

Peter Murphy SOTD

I was up most of the night last night in conversation with myself. My emotions have been so raw lately. My self-esteem at the lowest its been since my late 20’s. Anxiety and fear holding most of the cards, insecurity and doubt and deep sadness holding the rest of the deck. I know I need to make some major changes, but I don’t know how to anymore. So, for now, I’m putting my walls back up. I have to do something. I can’t survive like this. And I see the damage it’s causing all around me.

When people who you love, who say they love you, look at you so differently, have so little patience, and so much anger and disdain, well you know it’s not good. When you fight more than not fight, when things change too fast, too soon, well you know it’s not good. And when your children worry about you, openly, and say you are different, that you aren’t doing the things you used to, that you always seem so unhappy, well you know it’s not good.

PM SOTD

For now, the walls come up and I shut down. At least until I feel okay again, that I can trust being open again, that I can keep my emotions in better check again.

If I don’t do this I will get sick again. I already am headed that way, and I won’t let that happen again.

And, if I don’t do it I will drown in tears.

I can’t cry anymore.

I just can’t.

So walls, while I try to rebuild, sort out what I need to do, and heal. Walls and music.

Always music.

“A Strange Kind of Love” (live) by Peter Murphy