For a while, I stopped listening to an album that I really enjoy because it was the soundtrack to a time in my life that I was trying to lay to rest. Born and Raised by John Mayer is one of his best, in my opinion, but I’m pretty biased in favor of anything remotely folksy. It was an instant favorite. I listened to it over and over in the spring and summer of 2013. Now it’s bound to memories of that time – many of which I want to forget.
Born and Raised makes me think of…
- Sandy, sunburnt skin and cold showers.
- Two long road trips. Trips to the fish market in his 1968 Volkswagen beetle with no A/C, the leather seats making my legs and back sweaty in the heat. So many trips to Dunkin’ Donuts.
- Learning to sail. Intense anxiety. Not wanting to sail again. Doing it anyway, to make him happy.
- Dirty motel rooms.
- Brunch by the beach. Sunday morning mimosas.
- Lap swim in the dark. Watching the sun rise through the sky lights of the locker room.
- Muggy morning runs on the unlit chip trail.
- Staying in on Friday nights to play Borderlands 2 together.
- PAC events. Loving color guard, hating drill. So many graduations.
- Long marches. Sweating through a uniform every day.
- The sunset over Pensacola. A year of being in love, wildly, but receiving very little in return. Struggling between selflessness and sacrifice versus needs and expectations.
These are mostly happy memories, but I don’t have enough distance from that relationship to look back on that time with a detached but appreciative fondness. I’m not ready yet. Even positive reminiscing dredges up negative feelings; the rose-colored glasses eventually come off and I remember the deprivation, manipulation, rejection, and ultimately the destruction of my self-esteem. The music recalls memories of the past, and memories of the past invariably lead to feelings of sadness and hurt.
But I love that album. I don’t want to lose it because of these now-bittersweet memories, so I’ve been trying to “reclaim” it. I’m trying to associate it with a new kind of experiences. Whenever I’m feeling happy or peaceful, I’ll play the album or sing it to myself. I’d like to cognitively reassign the album to positive feelings which are independent of time and location. I want to enjoy the music again, earnestly, freely, with no emotional baggage.
Do you have music that makes you remember certain times in your life? Has it ever been hard for you to listen to an artist or album after it became associated with a bad time?goodbye cold, goodbye rain goodbye sorrow, goodbye shame