Permission

I have always been fiercely independent. I got that from my momma! In a way, that stubborn independence was necessary. My hometown was small, my undergrad was small, and the furthest west I had been from Upstate NY, was Cleveland, OH. Moving to Chicago for my master's degree was BIG TIME uncharted territory for me. The thought of living that far from my family turned my world upside down. I was excited to attend Northwestern University…but terrified. At that time in my life, depression infiltrated most everything I did. The biggest feeling at the root of my depression was loneliness. When I left home, this amplified ten-fold. I made the move and met some really great people that will always be in my life, discovered some things about myself, and struggled. I crawled to the finish line of my master's and started freelancing. If there is one thing musicians know about freelancing, it would be this: it ain’t for the weak. But have no fear, I’m not weak. I had been high functioning and probably an overachieving/undercover goody two-shoes, despite my mental illness. I was hell-bent on picking up as much work as I could while auditioning and stubbornly battling the chemical imbalance in my brain. That’s tough work.

For reasons I am slowly discovering, I felt like I HAD to make it work. I was an independent woman who was going to be “successful”. Period. Full stop. While this independence is admirable in some ways, it created my own personal trap. I was putting an absurd amount of pressure on myself. There are all sorts of quotes about pressure making diamonds. But I didn’t want a diamond. I wanted a job. Each audition rejection made me feel like I was running out of options until eventually, I adopted the mindset that I’m a failure. 

The past few months have been…not my favorite? Things happened, and the flood gates opened. A rough patch, indeed. My parents all took turns fielding very emotional phones calls, followed by my tendencies to withdraw and avoid, then back to taking more calls. One particular phone call I had with my mom, will be etched into my memory for the rest of my life. She said to me “when you love, you love with your whole heart, Kelsey. And when you hurt, you hurt with your whole heart. Your family, and so many people, love you so much. You can always come home. You know that. It’s like you’ve just been waiting for someone to give you permission.” 

I immediately broke down, but in a very healing way. I felt like my mom found the very core of my soul and gave it a hug - the kind of hug you never let go. I needed to hear it from someone else so I could give myself that grace, give myself permission to take the pressure off. I can move back home if I want. I can switch careers. I can keep trying with horn. I can freelance. Any and all of these things are okay because I finally give myself permission. Of course, this switch in mentality doesn’t happen overnight. I have a lot of baggage to unpack. But thanks to my mom, I've finally started to give myself the space and grace to do so.

Let the unpacking begin.