Soundtrack To My Life

I'm sure everyone has heard the song "Soundtrack 2 My Life" by Kid Cudi, or at least everyone who attended college any time after 2009 has. This title of the song as a premise fascinates me and is something that I honestly think about often; Everybody has specific songs that represent certain times or events they've experienced throughout their lives, right? Like, Soundtrack 2 My Life for example represents freshman year of college for me, the time where kids are cast out into the real world to experiment as slowly morph into who they want to be. I'm sure this song represents something completely different for a ton of people and I'm sure a ton more have nothing tied to it at all, but the point is, we all have unique soundtracks tied to life moments that when compiled can tell our story. Here are the 10 songs I chose to tell a sliver of my overall story.

Angels On The Moon by Thriving Ivory

December of 2008. It's my 11th birthday and I'm walking the block and a half home from my grandparents' house clutching the new box set of Topps football cards, sobbing. Even at 11 years old I knew that was going to be the last time I saw my grandma B, my favorite person on the planet. Three days later, the morning after my birthday party, as we were sitting down to get lunch at the Ely Steak House, we got the call. She had lost her 14-year battle with breast cancer. I remember everything about this day and this song is what plays during the montage of memories: the brokenhearted "she's in a better place and she loved you two more than anything" talk my dad gave my sister and I outside the restaurant, the bizarre serenity I had while sitting silently in the car next to her house as my dad runs in, the "B Journal" I was given by one of my parents friends to write to her whenever I needed, and the hours I spent mindlessly shuffling through all 440 of the cards in that NFL box set she'd given me to put them in order from 1-440.

Let's Ride by Haystak

Winter of 2009. Let's Ride is a complete vibe 180. This is a song that I doubt anyone else has even heard of unless I showed it to them and that's not surprising, a hefty southern white rapper named Haystak doesn't exactly scream good music and I'd agree, outside of this banger. Two of my friends and I were up at 2am playing video games and my aunt barged into the room with her boyfriend at the time after a night of partying. Her boyfriend saw my computer in the corner of the room and runs to it saying he had a sick video to show us. He pulls up this YouTube video of a souped-up school bus on a drag strip and as soon as it takes off, he yells "SCHOOL BUS WHEELIEEEE!!". I imagine that you're thinking "I bet school bus wheelie is a cinematic masterpiece that sits amongst the likes of 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Godfather, and Jaws as one of the best pieces of cinema to ever grace a screen." and you'd be right, it is. You may also be wondering "what happened next? Did he show you more videos of obscure vehicles doing wheelies?" Nope. Let's Ride by Haystak happened. This sequence of events was so awesome that it became a core memory for not only me but the friends that experienced it with me. We still yell "SCHOOL BUS WHEELIE!" at each other and I still bump Let's Ride to this day.

Mr. Rager by Kid Cudi

Fall of 2016. My freshman year of college is when I found Mr. Rager, and I would say that it signaled what was in store for me in the years to come. I can pretty much point to this song and say this is when the foundation was laid for my booze bag lifestyle. I'd listen to it every time I was going to a party like I was an elite athlete watching the Tavon Austin WVU highlight video before a game to get pumped up. Who knew that a song about a man's detailed struggles with addiction and the hell it put him through could be so inspirational? Like, yes Kid Cudi I too would like to be Mr. Rager, I'll wear this label with pride and finally receive the affirmation I seek from others through my contributions towards this noble cause! Cudi inspired me to dive headfirst into my true passion of getting loaded whenever I wanted to, moving on from the archaic practice of only indulging during times seen as socially acceptable. This long-winded background was necessary to tell the story about the first time my actions had actual consequences. As the year wore on, I began seeing the results of the work I'd been putting into perfecting this one area of my craft, but I knew I couldn't truly become a master of the craft overall without being proficient in all the other areas, it was time to conduct some research. I worked to expand my palate of substances by trying just about anything that was offered to me, which honestly wasn't all that much freshman year, but Xanax was the one that stuck around. Towards the end of the school year is when my Xan phase really took hold, snorting them and drinking on top of it is a recipe for time travel forward a few days. You black out super easy and never remember a thing, all while your body is still navigating the earth somehow. This was the case one night when one of my friends was in town and we partied all day into the early morning hours. While blacked out we somehow stole a flag from the dining center at like 4am and apparently that wasn't enough for me because I dropped the flag in my dorm, changed clothes (they'll never know), and went downstairs to take a bathroom sign off the door right in front of a camera. Trust me, I don't know why either. I had to go to court, thankfully got off easy, and that ended my Xan days (for a while).

Mama Cry by YNW Melly

February of 2019. Who's ready to spiral into mental instability and reckless decision making?! This is the song that sparked the idea for this blog; music with significant emotional ties and a story that confirms them. You ever find a song at the exact right time in your life? That was Mama Cry for me at this time. I had broken up with my girlfriend of 5 years in December and was in a new relationship by January with a girl that was also just exiting a longtime relationship. This newfound attraction was fueled by alcohol of course but this time it had a sidekick that blurred the lines of rational decision making; Molly or MDMA if you want the scientific term. Molly releases every ounce of serotonin and dopamine you have which, in simple terms, means you love everybody and everything, until it's over and you're depleted of all positive brain chemistry. In February she broke up with me and it crushed me. This is where the "vivid memory" portion of the story comes in. I was such a broken pick me guy terrified of being alone that I decided to drive past her apartment one night where I saw her ex-boyfriend's car. Complete meltdown engaged; I spent the next few hours driving recklessly up and down the interstate crying uncontrollably with Mama Cry cranked all the way up, screaming every word. This is the point where I believe I flipped into substances being a necessity.

Dark Things by Vic Mensa

January of 2020. New Years Day also happened to be the 1-year anniversary with the girl from the Mama Cry story above after we got back together. To celebrate, I decided to breakup with her to take a last-minute trip out to Whitefish Montana with a friend of mine to visit one of his hometown friends instead. And they say chivalry is dead? I was loaded upon arrival in Whitefish after taking pulls from a 1.75L bottle of straight vodka over the course of the 14-hour drive, making my friend drive the entire way. I found Dark Things by Vic Mensa while on this trip, and it mirrors what was going on in my head. Hope you brought your night vision goggles because we're going dark, like almost pitch-black dark. When we get there all three of us start hitting the sauce hard, mind you I'm already blacked out, completely void of rational decision making and operating with reckless abandon. Late in the night my friend's friend brought out the .38 snub nose revolver he had just bought, and apparently, I thought it'd be funny to clear the cylinder and dry fire it to my temple. The next day we wake up early to go skiing, I wake up still drunk and naturally pick up right where I left off. I load up my backpack with all the essentials: a bottle of vodka, that's it. Fastforward a few hours, I'm passed out in a puddle of my own puke on the side of a trail in a spot that's obstructed to people passing by. Not sure how long I laid there before a young boy found me and alerted ski patrol, but I do remember them telling me that the lifts were about to shut down for the day. I couldn't even stand so they loaded me into the sled and pulled me back to the chalet. That night I called my parents sobbing, saying I needed help, that I was ready to give up drinking. I had just turned 22 and my drinking had already driven me to the brink of death, I was terrified, so it was time to give sobriety a shot. But the thing is, being sober forces you to reconcile the Dark Things inside your head and those terrified me even more.

94 Bentley by SAINt JHN

February of 2020. At this time, I was waiting for a spot to open up in the outpatient treatment facility I was going to be attending 3 times a week for the next 6 months. You know what's cooler than a 94 Bentley? Getting cross addicted to molly (that was definitely cut with something else) and lying in bed listening to 94 Bentley by SAINt JHN for days on end while you're supposed to be trying to get sober. Not only that but using your parent's credit card to fund your new fix. Cross addiction is when someone replaces one addiction with another. This happens because us addicts spent years training our brains into believing all we need is a quick fix, our compulsive nature takes over and we justify the cross use because it's not the substance that we're admitting being addicted to. In my case I was so broken that I couldn't stomach what I was feeling when I was sober. I'd destroyed everything in my path for a long time and now I had to try to face the consequences without my crutch, I couldn't. I was still living in Fargo where all the friends I had still partied; I begged the girlfriend I left to take me back on the promise of drinking sobriety; I wasn't trusted by my family after years of lying and pushing them away. The molly was what I used to cope and still be able to tell myself I was making progress, I wasn't. My parents drove all the way to Fargo on a weekday to talk to me about my new addiction and why the hell they're funding it. I told them I'd quit doing it and the funny thing is, I actually did. Shortly after that talk I finally got admitted into treatment and did well for a couple weeks, but old habits die hard, and soon enough liquor and I were intimate again. I figured out what days they were going to piss test me in treatment and crafted my drinking schedule around those.

Rain by Azizi Gibson

March of 2020. Turns out that secretly drinking when you're a known drunk actively going to outpatient treatment only remains a secret for so long, who knew?! I was living with my aunt at the time and thought I was so good at hiding it but apparently when you put a German Sheppard on the counter people can tell that you're inebriated. That move won me a month-long vacation at an inpatient treatment facility, think of a college dorm but with apartments, daily piss tests, a strict curfew, and very limited use of electronics. I was the only one in the facility that wasn't court ordered to be there. When my parents dropped me off, I felt like a polar bear that wandered all the way to Texas, disoriented by not having a purpose, deadened from the pain and hopelessness of the journey, and terrified of the unknowns in the new foreign environment. When I met my roommates (four guys whom I fully expected to be angry, dangerous, and unpredictable people) those feelings of angst were quickly washed away as they turned out to be some of the nicest people I've ever met. One guy in particular made a lasting impression on me with his intentionality towards wanting to get to know me personally, wanting to hear my story and the struggles, and wanting to make sure I was comfortable. From that day on he treated me almost like I was his little brother, he was in his early 30s and had a young daughter who was very important to him. He was a meth addict on his 5th or 6th try at treatment and even though he was court ordered to be there he genuinely wanted to get clean and stay clean this time, stating his daughter as the motivation. Rain by Azizi Gibson was the song I played in the shower my first day there, before I had met anyone, I just sat there, empty, lonely, and afraid letting the water pour down on me like rain. It also happened to be the song I played in the shower my last day there, a couple days after my good friend "one guy" relapsed due to a newer court ordered client who was never planning on sobriety. That day there was a random fire- drill, I walked right past the door to his room to get outside, neither him nor the newer guy came out, so someone went to check the room. Newer guy was overdosing, and my friend was high as a kite in a complete panic. An ambulance picked him up and I have no idea what ultimately happened with guy. My friend went from finally maintaining sobriety and taking it seriously so he could be around for his daughter to an extended prison sentence, falling back into the cycle of use, and missing multiple years of his daughter's life. That last shower was just as somber as the first and I again, let the water pour down on me like rain as I sat there and thought about how everything he had planned just evaporated. He was on track to get the life he wanted and just couldn't hang on, even while in a treatment center, and this proved to me that addiction knows no bounds. You can't contain it, but you can tame it.

Not Enough by Juice WRLD

January of 2022. This was when everything fell apart at the seams as I tried to hold on to the absurdist reality I created. When the partying divulged into shamefully drinking alone. When a balanced breakfast consisted of a glass of vodka on my bedside table. This wasn't because I enjoyed drinking, I truly despised it, but I needed it. A knight needs his armor before entering battle and my battle was showing up every day as a seemingly sane member of society. Without the morning drink to boost my liver toxicity, the impending hangover would have me in a state where a zombie would have more human-like motor functions. This Metapod-esque existence was taken off the table of options when my employer (who also doubles as my landlord) confronted me about these abnormally frequent illnesses that had me bedridden, unable to work, and yet were somehow always remedied within 24 hours. There are really only 3 options on that proverbial table for people deep into addiction: continually abuse the substance whenever its available, crater into crippling withdrawal between uses of the substance, or give up the substance forever through sobriety. With the table of options down to either constantly drunk or forever sober, I threw sobriety in the trash to make room on that table for my morning vodka. I was blind drunk for 5 straight weeks, and I don't remember 99% of this time but I do remember one morning vividly. I was listening to music while plowing the Breckenridge Nordic Center parking lot in a skid steer at 7am after my morning glass of breakfast, this Juice album had just dropped, and Not Enough played. "Now I've been drowning in this liquor bottle, but drownings not enough. They tell me that I won't live to see tomorrow, but I don't give a fuck." This song resonated with the way I was feeling perfectly, legitimately drowning and soothed by the thought of death. I posted that snippet in an Instagram story, and someone I didn't really talk to much reached out to ask if I was doing ok, I lied of course. Even though they didn't get the truthful answer out of me that day it meant the world, someone noticed I was screaming for help internally and made an effort. I truly believed that I was completely alone, that the pain I felt could never go away, that I was going to die a drunk before the age of 25, and that the thought of dying was comforting. To remember this short exchange better than I remember most of those days I believe it was when I decided to at least take sobriety out of the trash and put it back on the table of options.

Low by Lund

April of 2022. By far the most depressing song (among a list of mainly depressing songs) in this collection but its significance is cemented to a positive time. A few months into my 2nd stint in treatment I would drive an hour each way to attend sessions three times a week and on one of these drives I got struck with the "purple wave" people talk about in recovery. It's essentially the point where you snap out of the addiction mind haze and really start seeing all the benefits of sobriety. This enlightening experience paired with this song made me think, why does sad music make me happy now? The answer is the basis for this entire blog, I vividly remember times where I truly felt as Low as humanly possible and now, I recognize that I no longer feel that pain. This song is about harboring so much pain that even substances fail to suppress the constant depressive thoughts, and suicide seems like the only escape. I not only recognize what this feels like, I was intimate with it; being so broken that the coping mechanism I used for years no longer muted the miserable radio of my mind. This song on this specific drive home was the first time I was able to look back on my past, compartmentalize the things I went through, and ultimately embrace the "bad" memories as an integral part of who I am. We are all just a product of what we experience throughout our lives and how we choose to navigate life after each experience defines our trajectory. I acknowledge and admit to the "bad" memories from my past because that is what was poured as the foundation of who I am that I'm constantly building upon. On that drive I saw a better version of myself being built, my trajectory was up, and that getting through all that "bad" should be celebrated instead of shamed. The "bad" may be who I am at the core, but it doesn't define who I become as I keep building upwards from that rocky foundation.

Growing Up Is Hard by Chelsea Cutler

October of 2023. I had to have a Chels song in here somewhere as she's my favorite artist and ending this with my favorite song of hers seems right. I have a ton of memories associated to different Chelsea Cutler songs (Your Shirt, Under, Flare Guns to name a few) but I feel like I need to end this on a positive note after laying out that series of unfortunate events like an addict Lemony Snicket. At this time my family was rushing to shingle the roof of a remodel house that my parents bought before winter came. The weather was brutal, I swear it rained and/or didn't get above 30 degrees every day we were up there. There was one day I was tied off to the chimney with a rope around my waist nailing shingles on a steep pitch roof while it pissed rain because we couldn't tarp it. This roofing project took many days, it spanned 3 consecutive weekends in late October as my sister and I had to commute up to Ely from Woodbury every week after work. I bet you're probably wondering how a Chelsea Cutler song comes into play here. Her album Stellaria was released during the time of this roofing fiasco, that's how. Growing Up Is Hard makes me remember those 12-hour days we spent roofing in the cold, and I remember them fondly. I was a couple months shy of my 2-year sobriety birthday, and this experience made me realize how grateful I was to be sober. I wasn't a good son or brother when I was drinking, and the family dynamic was always strained because of that. Lying to, stealing from, and pushing away the people that care about you the most could very easily fracture those relationships for life, it's hard to put trust in someone when they're only shown you extremely untrustworthy behavior for years. My family stood behind me on the day I decided I needed help without judgement, and they've been my biggest supporters every day since, especially my sister. I will always remain grateful for my sobriety because of how tight knit our family is now and roofing in the rain made me realize just how lucky I am to be able to have that back. Growing Up Is Hard but I wouldn't change a thing, what I have now is better than anything I could have possibly imagined back then.