My experience dealing with mental health and the personal relationship I have with music as a coping mechanism have inspired me to pursue music therapy as a future career. I have considered performance and music education, and for a long time, I was certain I wanted to be a music teacher. After identifying what it was about music that made me want to be in the field, I began to reconsider my career path. My connection to music is lifelong, and I have always used it—in one way or another—to cope with mental and emotional struggles. I have always found singing to be therapeutic, if not, cathartic. There is something about using the voice to make art and express oneself that is particularly beautiful to me. Singing, for me, is a form of liberation. When I began playing instruments, I realized that music as a hobby was one of the most effective coping mechanisms for me. Music can be a hobby, but also a creative outlet, emotional outlet, and healthy coping skill. I have often needed comfort that seemed only to be resolved by music. I believe this has to do with the fact that there is no way to do music (or any art form) "wrong". One of the things I have noticed I personally experience when dealing with my own mental health is how I will criticize myself for doing something wrong. This could be as simple as an uncomfortable social interaction to failing an exam. Understanding that mistakes happen and that I am not a failure for doing something wrong is something I and many others struggle with. While music, like anything else, has the potential to be hyper-criticized by perfectionist ideals, music-making is something that can be done in any way the individual likes. Music also has the ability to match a person's emotions in a way that other mediums may not be able to offer. Upbeat or slower tempos, dynamic variation, instrumentation and lyrics are only a small handful of musical aspects that play into the "mood" of a piece of music. Music can be stimulating, calming, exciting, or all three. No one way of making music is correct or is universally healing; different people have different needs when it comes to mental health, and the variability of music is very helpful in that. Music in the physical sense is also beneficial to individuals participating in music therapy. Movement and somatic work are great ways to release anxieties, angers, and more. Dancing or playing an instrument, for example, can help individuals process events by using bilateral stimulation. This is a technique used in EMDR and can be applied to the physical parts of music in the same way. It also helps individuals develop healthy, non-destructive/harmful coping mechanisms to use when they are experiencing major feelings brought on by an event that may be exacerbated by their mental health condition(s). I have found that music and emotion are deeply connected, and anyone with a mental health condition has the potential to benefit from the use of music therapy.

Billie's music is extraordinarily resonant with me. Any of her songs that explores themes of burnout, people-pleasing, heartbreak, and depression are personally very relatable. Back when she first began releasing music, I remember my teenage self being moved by "idontwannabeyouanymore" after my first listen. Several lines were reflective of my life at the time, such as "fall apart twice a day" and, of course, the chorus: "tell the mirror what you know she's heard before/I don't wanna be you anymore." I would spend hours in front of a mirror degrading myself for how I looked in certain clothes, hating the way my body looked at certain angles, and measuring my value by the numbers on measuring tape. I could not love myself as I was and I was ready to be someone new. The song I relate to most is "THE GREATEST". In the past, I have spent my time and energy trying to please and satisfy other people in my life, which was often not reciprocated. So much of my love was poured into my efforts to make things better for the people I cared about, and the lack of recognition is something I am all too familiar with. I often found myself sacrificing aspects of my mental and physical wellbeing, and it felt like nothing I said or did was ever enough. Finally, I have always loved "listen before i go". The storyline is incredibly grim, and every word Billie sings I was feeling. I had gotten to a point where a permanent solution to my sadness felt like the best option. I wanted to be free of it all, and though I felt terrible thinking of how my loved ones would be affected, this song provided a perspective I did not know I needed. I felt Billie's hurt but also felt the hurt of the people who love her. My heart broke at the thought of causing others so much distress over my decision, and I was able to find my way out of it. Billie's music has gotten me through some of the toughest times in my life, and the fact that we are close in age makes her life experience and songs all the more relevant to me. Thanking her for being so vulnerable with her audience would still not be enough for the solace she's provided so many of her fans, myself included.

In August of 2021, I was hopeful, starting my college career in a new state with new people, away from the hometown I so closely associated with deep trauma. I moved into a dorm where everyone was full of energy, eagerly discussing when we should all go to the dining hall together, what interests we had in common and exchanging social media. This felt like the start of a new chapter in my life where I could finally work on myself and find peace. I had a lot of learning left to do once the semester started, and much of it would not be related to academics. When I entered college, I had already been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and C-PTSD. Making new friends seemed to come naturally, perhaps because of the community that tends to await students living on a university campus. I was thrilled to be around people who genuinely wanted to support a friendship. Two months in, things grew busier, and it became harder to remain involved with my peers. I was around my friends less and gradually drifted apart from the group, missing out on nights of laughter and dorm-room drinking. I was not prepared for the dramatic exclusion I would face as a result. The rest of October was spent in isolation: I was not going to classes or the dining hall out of fear I would run into anyone who looked down on me. My days consisted of being in my room, crying silently to myself or sleeping through classes. Before any of this, I had not so much as touched alcohol. One night, I decided to drink as much as I could, hoping that I could escape reality. I do not know what led to my doing this—perhaps it was the correlation between alcohol and being liked by peers, or merely the fact that I had run out of ideas that did not involve more dangerous forms of self-harm. The result was a suicidal spiral that was a long time coming. I decided to call my university’s helpline and begged for a reason to stay, whether it was the promise of academic recovery or simply that I would eventually find my people. I told them that I had no plans to hurt myself and that I wanted to get out of the rut I was in. They calmly told me to pack my things and said campus police would pick me up and drive me to a hospital where I could speak to a professional. We arrived at a mental health facility that I did not recognize. I was immediately questioned, breathalyzed, and stripped. I had never been institutionalized before and was terrified. I was given a paper shirt and pants so sheer I felt it was equivalent to fully exposing myself to the other patients. I didn’t understand why I was brought there, especially without fair warning. I was held at the facility overnight and released the next morning. What followed was months of trial and error with medicines to help with my depression, continued therapy, and finding new groups to be part of. Since then, I have found a support system and medications that work for me. While I still struggle with self-worth and academic motivation, working with a therapist and psychiatrist has helped me reframe my outlook on school and the life I have ahead of me. Today, I view my struggle with mental health as a testament to my strength and determination to strive for better things. I intend to continue these recovery methods in my quest for peace, success, and self-acceptance.