What do you do when your foundation falls apart? I don't know. They don't teach you that in school.
Stevo, SLC Punk
As the world seems to be getting ready to reopen, I’ve been hit with some devastating news in regard to my music career in the past couple of days, and it’s leaving me feeling so uncertain. More uncertain than I felt two weeks ago, and there’s a fear accompanying this uncertainty that’s really hard to resolve right now.
I’m a full-time musician. When the shutdown happened, musicians were immediately shut down. Live music gatherings were one of the first things to go when things started closing. And moreso, it’s been difficult to get any kind of assistance for many as gig workers—a lot of us don’t even claim income, so there’s a myriad of difficulties that go along with that. Anyway.
I’ve been so hopeful that this will pass and that things will slowly start to get back to normal—but that attitude is changing based on some stuff I learned lately. It’s starting to feel like this is a new phase I wasn’t prepared for.
Here’s what’s happened in the past 24 hours.
Yesterday, I woke up to a message from one of my recurring gig locations—a pizza parlor here in Springfield that has historically had me out to play once a month during the summer months. It’s an easy gig—the money is good, and the crowds are nice and pretty generous with their tips. I’ve reached a lot of new followers through this venue, and it’s a good place for families to be able to see and hear live music because while they do have a bar, it’s separated from the dining room, and the stage is there. It’s an all-around solid gig.
My booking contact at this place messaged me yesterday morning to let me know that they’ve cancelled all live music through summer 2021 unless a vaccine is available before then. All of it. So, for myself and for a number of other solo and duo performers here in town, that gig is completely off the books. I had already missed a date with them from this current crisis, and was looking forward to adding the reschedule to my book...but now that’s a complete loss.
Yesterday I spent most of the day trying to deal with those feelings of being let down. When I went to bed, a huge wave of fear swept over me and sent me into a crying frenzy. I had a small panic attack, and then breathed through it—telling myself that things will get better.
Then, this morning I woke up to the news that a local dive bar that’s been a relentless supporter of live local music isn’t going to reopen when this is all over. It’s been one place in this town where I can always schedule a gig. The owners are nice people who support all genres of music. They’re a retired couple and the bar was their fun retirement career—so, I guess this time allowed them to evaluate what they really wanted to do, and this is their decision.
I can’t blame anyone for making the decisions they’re making—I mean, I get it. People are concerned about safety, and they’re concerned about their own preservation and make those decisions based on what they think is best. I’m all about safety and I’ve respected and been in favor of all the stay-at-home orders, because I know it’s the right thing to do. But this hurts, and it feels like it’s the beginning of a wave that I need to get used to. It’s a side effect in all of this that I just wasn’t prepared for. At all.
Maybe I was just totally naive in thinking that this would have an end point and that life would go back to normal.
Where were we going? I mean, really, what was happening? This life, it was crazy. I felt tired. I mean, halfway through the season, I just felt, inside, I was so tired. And I had this wave of melancholy just like sweep through me.
Stevo, SLC Punk
I’ve tried so hard to stay positive through all of this. But these are a couple of crushing blows, and I’m wondering what’s next. It feels like a rug is being pulled out from under me and I know I’m not alone these feelings, but still being so far away from people has me feeling very alone. Like, so alone.
The other side of this, too, is that I know a lot of people who have felt dreary during this time are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel—but I’m feeling like this is the beginning of the end of my music career and I’m not really sure if I should feel that way or what I’m going to do if this is really the reality I need to face.
I literally have zero idea as to what I should do now.
...and when I don’t know what to do, a lot of times I just shut down. I’ve been fighting these feelings for so long at this point, and I don’t want to shut down—but I feel it happening. My motivation to do anything is just totally waning, and I’m just feeling like I’m in a pit right now. Keep rehearsing? What’s the point?
There's nothing going on. That's what I saw when I looked out over the city: nothing.
Stevo, SLC Punk
When does this end?
What is it going to look like when this passes?
Are musicians and other creators going to be left in the dust after this?
Is the era of local live music over?
It’s so hard to not have self-pity right now. I’m trying not to get sucked into that cycle right now—but I’m treading water. This is hard.
You see life is like that. We change, that's all. You see, the guy I am now is not the guy I was then. If the guy I was then met the guy I am now he'd beat the shit out of me. Those are the facts.
Stevo, SLC Punk
Cover image taken by and used with permission from @jasonrussell & @melodyrussell
Hive gif courtesy of @derangedvisions
Hive gif courtesy of @derangedvisions
Grieving is natural and necessary ... we are grieving the loss of a way of life, and we don't know what the future holds. Even the Lord Jesus, knowing that He was just about to raise Lazarus from the dead, wept with those who were grieving ... He understands our pain.
The summer of 2021 is in God's hands, not revealed yet to us just as the rest of this spring and this summer is not ... I find it overwhelming to try to think that far ahead. I find it overwhelming to even think more than a week ahead. I grieve the loss of routine and rhythm, and the connections that were made that are now severed, some perhaps forever. We don't know if we are coming back from this. We don't know if businesses, organizations, and people we care about are coming back from this. It can be overwhelming, and most of us are treading water. You are not alone.
I just go knowing that God gave me the skills I have and has a place in His plan for me and those skills for as long as He wants me in this world. I grieve the fact that I no longer know exactly what that is going to look like in the future -- but I look every day for whatever I can do and then do it. It doesn't feel good, a lot of the time. I try to keep a good sermon or a nature show going (I love beekeeping videos) and to get only enough news to know what I need to know and not so much that it is overwhelming. I make use of the extra time to pray, and when it gets too bad I just close down everything, turn on something relaxing, and take a nap, and start again. There is no end in sight of the new normal. I take comfort in knowing that God is in control of all of it, and that I'll have what I need if not what I want because He promised to take care of my needs.
You are not alone. Grieve what you need to grieve. Tread water knowing that God knows just what He is doing, and will guide you even in this uncertainty we are all in. It doesn't feel good at all, and it may not for a long time ... but the Lord will get us wherever He wants to go through this. That's all there is to count on from here on out... and all there ever was, really.
@deeanndmathews Ms. Dee, thank you so much for such a thoughtful, thorough, and insightful response. I love hearing your perspective and welcome it always.
I know that God is trying to teach me lessons about letting go, and that’s really difficult for me. I heard a bit of a sermon by DawnChere Wilkerson today talking about how God is using this time to increase our flexibility and that structure and flexibility are not mutually exclusive. This is a hard concept for me to internalize, as I am someone who loves to make plans and who lives by those plans. This season is obviously taking those plans and throwing them out the window, and it leaves me feeling so crazy...fumbling, indeed. I wish it didn’t bother me as much as it does. I wish I could just move along and roll with the punches. But that’s so hard for me. I’m praying about it, but I’m definitely not there yet.
Thank you again for your words here. I definitely needed to read them, and I definitely feel God’s comfort through them. Sincerely, thank you. Take care, my friend. We will talk soon, I’m sure. :)
I’m sure it should go without saying, but I love that you used Stevo quotes to tie this all together.
You are one my many working-musician friends, and I can’t truly empathize with the hard hit that you all have taken from this situation. Yes, I may be a “musician” of sorts, but it’s certainly not my day-job or source of income, so admittedly, I can’t relate.
However, I hope you know that I do understand that music is the glue that holds us together. You guys are just as “essential” in my eyes as any other workers. You guys keep us sane.
Don’t ever think for a second, that you are unappreciated. The girls and I listen to your music almost daily and we can’t wait to see you perform again. Hang in there, friend. Thank you for doing what you do. Much love from the Russell family ❤️
@melodyrussell Hey Mel!! So good to hear from you here ‘round this here neck of the woods.
I have such a hard time writing a post like this, because I realize it’s been a total privilege to be able to scrape out a living by playing music over the past few years. Like all privileges, they can be taken away—but I just don’t want to sound like a sad sap who never appreciated what I had in the first place...or like a Bravo TV Housewife complaining about China patterns. But I’m just worried, and my livelihood just feels so threatened right now. Sometimes I feel like I just need to shout it into the abyss. Sometimes it helps—sometimes it doesn’t—but it’s always at least relatively cathartic to get my feelings/thoughts out and try to sort them.
I know I will always have music. That I know for sure. But if things change and I’m not able to do music like this—that’s gonna have an adverse impact on my psyche.
SLC Punk quotes have just been rolling through my head lately. Talks of nothingness, talks of change, talks of rebellion...talks of death. When I wrote the post I was like, “There’s probably not a lot of people who are going to draw these same connections here, but whatever.” Lol, so I’m so glad you get it, and I’m thankful you’ve been a person who for a good portion of my life, have been a friend who gets it—even when you don’t personally relate to the situation, you get it, and that means the world to me. I receive your empathy with total and complete gratitude.
I appreciate you, your family, and your words here. Love ya’ll big. 💚