Music… and then tears. Every day they cry

Greetings!

Thank you for reading! I hope that you are enjoying this blog!

I’ve been thinking about ‘crying’ a lot lately. Both in my work and personally. As a music therapist working in a hospital setting. Everyday people cry. Music prompts emotion. Music prompts release… and they cry. (And a personal reflection on my own relationship with crying.) Read on…

I’m continually amazed at how much people cry when music is brought into the space of a hospital room. I think there are many reasons—sometimes it’s pain, sometimes it’s sadness after being given some less than positive news—but mostly what I think is that it’s simple… a release. Music prompts emotion. And when someone is in the hospital, regardless of the scenario, emotions are heightened. Tension is held in, words are hard to come by to describe inner feelings, and then something aesthetic… something with beauty… they cry. Every day they cry.

Just this week at one of the hospitals where I work as a music therapist, I was asked to visit with a gentleman, in his 60s, who had been in the ICU for over a week dealing with the effects of a unique type of pneumonia. He had been on a ventilator for several days, and after being taken off, was still dealing with crippling breathing issues. Any exertion, including simply sitting up in bed, caused panic-stricken shortness of breath. The nursing staff asked me to visit because he “needed something, he’s very anxious.”

When I entered the room, he looked at me and glanced, offputtingly at my guitar. He looked stoic, but I could see through it. I introduced myself and told him that the nurses asked me to come in and maybe play a little music… “Just to help you relax, give you something else to focus on.” He said, “Sure. If you want too.” I could see that speaking was laboring for him, so I just asked, “What kind of music do you like to listen to?” “Well, I like anything from the Beatles to Radiohead. I like Foo Fighters.” So, I went into an easy version of Times Like These (Foo Fighters). [Anyone who knows me or reads this blog knows this is one of my favorite ‘go-to’ songs. I think lyrically it is so poignant for anyone dealing with all the ‘stuff’ in the hospital.]

“It’s times like these you learn to live again. It’s times like these you give and give again. It’s times like these you learn to love again…”

Before I could get through the first verse… he was crying. And as I always do when this happens, I paused and asked, “Should I keep going?” And as they always say when I ask, he said, “Yes please.”

It’s not just the patients.

Also this week, I went to visit an older woman in the ICU who had a stroke. She was minimally respondent and unable to focus or answer questions. I was asked to provide some music for comfort and orientation. Her adult daughter was sitting in the corner of the room and greeted me warmly. After telling her why I was there, I started to bring some music in. Initially I was just giving some soft music on the guitar, to see if I would get any response from her, visually and from the readings on the monitor. Her heart rate started to decrease slightly (good sign), so I continued. After a bit, I merged into a ‘lullaby’ version of Edelweiss (from ‘The Sound of Music’). As I started singing, her daughter got up from her chair, went to the bed and took her hand, and started to cry.

In both of these situations, (like many) crying is good. And I tell them that. Why? It’s tension release. There is so much emotion bottled up inside, for patients, caregivers and even staff, and music prompts that release. It’s cathartic. And what both of them, like many others who cry, told me afterwards was, “I feel better.”

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This was the start of a recent blog post, from Suleika Jaouad—one of my favorite writers and herself going through treatment for leukemia—called ‘Permission To Cry’:

“For the past two weeks, I’ve been dogged by the impulse to cry—not just daily, but often morning, noon, and night. I think it’s largely due to the state of the world. I wonder if it’s like this for you, too—that suffering on such a scale leaves you raw and porous, so that anything, insignificant or profound, bad or good, can prompt you to tears.”

And it made me think…

I’ve been feeling the same way lately. I’ve been feeling an impulse to cry. I deal with ‘crying’ every day in my work. And as a result, I’ve built up (consciously or not) a resistance in fighting this urge. Suppressing the emotion of it all. But lately—maybe because of the state of the world or some personal challenges—I’ve not been able to resist this urge as much. Lately I can’t seem to hold it in. Now, we all know that there are stigmas around crying. We are told not to cry as we become “big boys or big girls” when we are kids. It may appear weak, to the outside or to within. But lately… I cry. And I’m okay with it. I’ve allowed myself to be okay with it. Why? I feel better.

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This song by the incredible Jon Batiste really sums it all up:

What are your feelings around crying? Do you allow yourself to cry? How does it make you feel? (Please comment below if you are comfortable.)

The healing power of music…

(*The stories presented in this blog are based on accounts and experiences and are not actual accounts or experiences.)

Raymond Leone, MMT, MT-BC is director of Medical Music Therapy at A Place To Be and the Inova Health System