Maybe music is therapy. Hell, I don’t know for sure. But I know this—this morning, I woke up feelin’ heavy.
Mixed-up thoughts. World on fire. My own priorities feelin’ outta place. I was angry—at the world, at myself. I got a road trip coming up and my mind was cluttered like a junk drawer. Too much noise. Too many damn tabs open in my head.
So I did the only thing that made sense in that moment—I grabbed my guitar.
Didn’t overthink it. Just picked her up and started workin’ through a progression in C minor. Slow. Easy. One note at a time. And I’ll be damned… it chilled me out.
The more I played, the more the weight lifted. My shoulders dropped. My breath got deeper. The rhythm took the edge off. It was like my whole damn attitude shifted right there in real time. Before the coffee. Before the day even got movin’. Just me, the guitar, and a melody that felt like boom.
By the time I set her down, I felt better. Lighter. Smiling.
And that’s when it hit me—maybe this is therapy. My own little blues session. No appointment. No couch. Just strings and soul and honesty. I didn’t plan it, but it found me anyway.
Now I’m wonderin'—what else is music doin’ to me that I ain't payin’ attention to?
I think I’m gonna start watchin’ closer. Listening deeper. Not just to the notes, but to what they stir up in me.
'Cause this morning? That six-string did more for me than any damn self-help book.
You ever had music catch you like that? Shift your mood ? Tell me your story—I’m listenin’.
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