Healing Through Song

Before the chaos of the day ensued, I was preparing my coffee while belting out a song that I dedicated to myself, Unconditionally by Katy Perry.

I had woken numerous times throughout the early morning, hearing the chorus being sung by someone inside with each conscious toss and turn of my restless body. As I laid in bed with my eyes still closed, clinging to the comfort and promise of the morning summer air, I listened to the words still repeating over and over in my head in a beautiful melody:

Unconditional, unconditionally. I will love you unconditionally. There is no fear now. Let go and just be free. I will love you unconditionally.

I always assume it's Fairy singing to the others because she is the nurturing one who tries to bring comfort and reassurance in the height of stress. The first time I heard this song, I was driving alone in the car; I immediately turned it up, as the lyrics brought tears to my eyes. In that moment, the song became an anthem from my Self to each of my parts. It's a beautiful feeling when you know that you're both safe and held; that you are loved unconditionally. For me, loving myself, each of my parts, unconditionally, was a new concept, but one that made me feel wholehearted to lean into and commit to.

Some may think it's a little silly to dedicate songs to themselves, crazy to have internal check ins with themselves, or stupid to believe these parts exist; the more I do these things, the less I worry about them. It warms my heart when I find a way of connecting with my parts, especially through specific words in a song. Charlie LOVES to talk in accents, make up songs, and sing in general. He took a special liking to the chorus from Not While I'm Around by Sondheim Stephen:

Demons'll charm you with a smile for a while, but in time, nothing's going to harm you, not while I'm around.

Those words bring solace to the littles when it's otherwise hard to comfort them. The Little Girl remembers sharing apples and cheese with dad, and him singing the words to That's Amore by Dean Martin and Time to Say Goodbye by Andrea Bocelli. There are specific parts to songs that I think will always be a part of my working memory; they hold a special comfort and closeness that's hard to describe.

When I began doing parts work last year, I finally watched Moana through to the end for the first time, coincidentally during a really difficult week with flashbacks looping on a reel. My therapist and I were working with The Little Girl and intrusive memories of being raped by someone she loved and trusted. It was hard to describe how The Little Girl felt. The scene where Moana sings to Te Ka while returning the heart of Te Fiti is one that sent shivers down my spine and brought tears to my eyes; it was something I needed to see and hear, that week especially. I felt as if that scene and song depicted the beautiful reunion that I know is awaiting me at some point in my journey. Seeing this scene in the movie, I finally understood The Little Girl. It was as if her heart had been taken; something she wasn't willing to give was taken from her, transforming her into something protective, fiery, and fierce, fueled by betrayal, loss, longing, and rage. The lyrics of Moana's song sunk in deep and became words that Fairy sings to comfort The Little Girl when the memories become overwhelming and frightening:

I have crossed the horizon to find you. I know your name. They have stolen the heart from inside you. But this does not define you. This is not who you are. You know who you are.

Though those memories haunt me less and less as I progress with parts work in therapy, I still use the Know Who You Are song as a resource when the memories do come up. Again, it may seem silly at first to dedicate a song to oneself, but for me it's been a resource that brings light to the darkest of places. My parts remember the words that they need to hear, and they sing them loud when needed.

Having a better understanding of my parts and the system, I now see The Little Girl as Te Ka, the protector; The Taken as Te Fiti, the exile, hidden from view; and my Self as Moana, crossing horizons to find them, to honor what was taken so they know it's safe to stop hiding, putting up walls, and shutting others out. I'm definitely somewhere out in the ocean right now; though I'm making my way to that fateful moment when I can see The Taken and rest my forehead to hers.

Do you have a personal anthem or song that you've dedicated to yourself? If not, I challenge you to find one that makes you feel something, tell your parts you love them, and dedicate the song to them. I hope doing so brings a smile to your face, as it does mine each and every time I practice this form of self-acceptance and love.