Comfortably Numb
There was more than one occasion where my college band director would comment over his megaphone that band was our therapy. He wasn't wrong. For a couple of reasons, for better or for worse, band and trumpet is a huge part of how I coped with being gay and hiding it.
As a teenager, trumpet is how I learned to hide undesirable emotions from myself. Through my college career, I heard more than one brass player taking private lessons talking about their instructor being almost like a therapist because the instructor could tell their emotional state almost immediately upon hearing them play. That was certainly my experience with the trumpet instructor I worked with for my middle school through high school career.
How do they do this? Wind instruments are a heck of a thing because the horn is essentially an extension of the player's body. Tension in your mouth, shaking hands, unsteady breathing are all things that happen when you're angry or scared. These are also all things that affect the sound that comes out. Then, if your hands are too tense, it impedes your ability to play things that require your fingers to move quickly and controlled. Your hands have to be loose for that.
Here's the rub. A good portion of the time, the emotions I was actually feeling didn't match the emotions that needed to come out in the playing. Occasionally if I was angry and it was an aggressive piece it would work out, but usually not. And never once was feeling nervous or ashamed a good sound. Throw in the fact that auditions and performances were always going to be scary and stressful and the years where I was doing this that were high stakes for me were my teens and 20's...also known as puberty when most people are highly emotional because biology...I had to find a workaround.
So, what was the workaround? If I didn't want to see it or feel it, I learned to ignore it. I was taught to close my eyes, take a deep steady breath, open them, and tune everything I didn't want to see or feel out. I got really good at it over time. In auditions, it was me and the music. Standing on a football field surrounded by 70,000 people (when I'm a fairly shy person by nature), as far as I was concerned there was me, the people standing immediately around me, and a drum major waving their arms. This was partly the psychological part and partly because when the crowd tries to clap along to the music, the sound comes back half a beat behind because of the physics of the way sound travels. Standing on a dark basketball court at the free throw line with a spotlight on me in front of 20,000 people to play the national anthem on the regular for nationally televised games (did I mention I'm shy and don't like to stand out normally?), as far as I was concerned there was me, one other trumpet on the other side of the court, and a band director waving his arms across the way and no one else. There was no crowd. There were no faces. There were the three of us and there was the music.
What does any of this have to do with being gay? At the exact same time I was literally being coached on how to hide my fear and anxiety around auditions and things, I conveniently also was needing to learn to hide my attraction to women and my fear and shame surrounding that. At the same time I needed to be able to do an audition that would, in my mind, affect my ability to get a music scholarship without my hands or breath shaking, I also needed to be able to speak to or about someone I had a major crush on (with a huge degree of shame and fear) without giving anything away in my face. By the time I had learned to easily unsee 70,000 screaming college football fans, I had also learned to unsee sorority girls in tight dresses or volleyball players in skin tight shorts. I kind of think it worked. Of the people I've told I'm gay who had guessed, none of them have been from that era of my life. Granted, it could be more that people assume straight until proven otherwise. But, not even my best friends from high school who are relatively progressive and have other queer friends knew. At a time when it didn't feel safe for anyone to know, trumpet taught me to hide things in plain sight from myself and from others.
The second thing band did for me (in college in particular) was provide a release valve for emotional pressure. I spent the first 18 years of my life building this seemingly simple vision of what my life was going to be. I was going to get a college degree, become a wife to a husband, become a mother, and continue on in the religious community I had grown up in. The last three items seemed like they should be easy given it's what everyone I knew did. I knew marriage and actually raising children would be hard, but getting to the starting line shouldn't be hard should it? And it had to be worth it because it was what my church told me was my most important job and what everyone described as their life's purpose and greatest work. And by 21 years old, it was apparent that no...no those weren't going to be easy. In fact, they weren't advisable for me at all. The main vision I'd had for my life essentially wasn't achievable at all. I couldn't physically have kids. It was pretty obvious I wasn't going to have a straight marriage that was going to be functional. I didn't want to adopt to be a single mother. There's nothing wrong with doing that, but it wasn't something I wanted. And my religious life was crumbling. The first string of people I told I thought I was gay (including my therapist) all seemed to be worried about my mental state and grief and loss of identity and depression. There was some of that this spring, but what they didn't know is that the worst of it had already happened 20 years prior. 21 year old me is who lost her identity. 21 year old me is who I'm pretty sure was outright depressed and couldn't admit it to anyone. 21 year old me is who started down a path of gaining a massive amount of weight. 21 year old me is who felt very alone in all this. Band saved me (or at least helped me limp through it).
At a time when I couldn't see a purpose in my life, I could go to a basketball game and play a bunch of basically cheerful, fun songs (I don't think it's physically possible to play "Hey Baby" and not smile). I couldn't be a mother, but I could make sure the freshman trumpets knew how to march our way and stay after a rehearsal to help the inevitable poor terrified freshman 3rd trumpet finish learning their part to the "William Tell Overture" during early week (they had to demonstrate they had the pre-game show music memorized by the end of that week to continue on). At a time I felt betrayed by my body and by God, I could go to a sportsball game and scream myself hoarse and it was totally acceptable and actually encouraged. And then, in college athletic bands in particular, trumpets love to play really high and really loud (and I had pretty good range at the time. It was one of the few things I did have that was genuinely good). There's something really visceral about playing the "screamer" notes. The way you do it is to essentially take the deepest breath you can possibly take, tense up every muscle in your body (particularly your abs), and then blow as hard as you can possibly blow and pray to God in Heaven the note comes out. When it works out, it can be very satisfying. And when you're having an identity crisis and losing all motivation when taking Differential Equations (the final class of the calculus series) when you're not a particularly gifted mathematician (and by "not gifted" I mean bad. Those classes were incredibly hard for me. Don't do that, by the way. that's a horrible life decision), it's incredibly cathartic.
I don't even like sports that much (shhh. don't tell anyone). I don't hate them. I enjoy watching games with friends and family because I enjoy the social experience of it, but I never watch games on my own and don't really follow them. I enjoy listening to people talk about my college team because it makes them happy (and when I was in school, could reasonably carry on a conversation about it because I was immersed in it). But, 21 year old me could go to those games and pour everything emotionally into those games, feel kinda good at something (anything) for a few hours, feel some shred of a purpose (I couldn't be a wife, but damn it, I could help fill out a that first trumpet roster for rent-a-win game nobody wanted to play at or I could cheer on my team or I could chat and laugh with a fan). It was the one thing in my life I felt like I could semi-control. And then, as a reward, I got to travel with the pep bands when the teams went to conference or NCAA tournaments. It was this one good thing in my life at probably easily the lowest point of my life thus far. It was the best and worst time of my life because of band.
Things got better after college. I poured myself into my first job and into the worship team at my first church after college and both went really well. I got a dog (who was my best friend) in my first apartment. I eventually moved to a city where I met some of the best friends of my life. And now I'm working on accepting who and what I am. I have a support system of friends who know exactly what's going on. I have a real, actual therapist who's helping me deal with this. It's been a long time since I was in that place and I'm in a considerably better place now.
But for that time back at 21, band was my therapy. It and the lessons it taught me are how I survived that time.
(song reference)
As a teenager, trumpet is how I learned to hide undesirable emotions from myself. Through my college career, I heard more than one brass player taking private lessons talking about their instructor being almost like a therapist because the instructor could tell their emotional state almost immediately upon hearing them play. That was certainly my experience with the trumpet instructor I worked with for my middle school through high school career.
How do they do this? Wind instruments are a heck of a thing because the horn is essentially an extension of the player's body. Tension in your mouth, shaking hands, unsteady breathing are all things that happen when you're angry or scared. These are also all things that affect the sound that comes out. Then, if your hands are too tense, it impedes your ability to play things that require your fingers to move quickly and controlled. Your hands have to be loose for that.
Here's the rub. A good portion of the time, the emotions I was actually feeling didn't match the emotions that needed to come out in the playing. Occasionally if I was angry and it was an aggressive piece it would work out, but usually not. And never once was feeling nervous or ashamed a good sound. Throw in the fact that auditions and performances were always going to be scary and stressful and the years where I was doing this that were high stakes for me were my teens and 20's...also known as puberty when most people are highly emotional because biology...I had to find a workaround.
So, what was the workaround? If I didn't want to see it or feel it, I learned to ignore it. I was taught to close my eyes, take a deep steady breath, open them, and tune everything I didn't want to see or feel out. I got really good at it over time. In auditions, it was me and the music. Standing on a football field surrounded by 70,000 people (when I'm a fairly shy person by nature), as far as I was concerned there was me, the people standing immediately around me, and a drum major waving their arms. This was partly the psychological part and partly because when the crowd tries to clap along to the music, the sound comes back half a beat behind because of the physics of the way sound travels. Standing on a dark basketball court at the free throw line with a spotlight on me in front of 20,000 people to play the national anthem on the regular for nationally televised games (did I mention I'm shy and don't like to stand out normally?), as far as I was concerned there was me, one other trumpet on the other side of the court, and a band director waving his arms across the way and no one else. There was no crowd. There were no faces. There were the three of us and there was the music.
What does any of this have to do with being gay? At the exact same time I was literally being coached on how to hide my fear and anxiety around auditions and things, I conveniently also was needing to learn to hide my attraction to women and my fear and shame surrounding that. At the same time I needed to be able to do an audition that would, in my mind, affect my ability to get a music scholarship without my hands or breath shaking, I also needed to be able to speak to or about someone I had a major crush on (with a huge degree of shame and fear) without giving anything away in my face. By the time I had learned to easily unsee 70,000 screaming college football fans, I had also learned to unsee sorority girls in tight dresses or volleyball players in skin tight shorts. I kind of think it worked. Of the people I've told I'm gay who had guessed, none of them have been from that era of my life. Granted, it could be more that people assume straight until proven otherwise. But, not even my best friends from high school who are relatively progressive and have other queer friends knew. At a time when it didn't feel safe for anyone to know, trumpet taught me to hide things in plain sight from myself and from others.
The second thing band did for me (in college in particular) was provide a release valve for emotional pressure. I spent the first 18 years of my life building this seemingly simple vision of what my life was going to be. I was going to get a college degree, become a wife to a husband, become a mother, and continue on in the religious community I had grown up in. The last three items seemed like they should be easy given it's what everyone I knew did. I knew marriage and actually raising children would be hard, but getting to the starting line shouldn't be hard should it? And it had to be worth it because it was what my church told me was my most important job and what everyone described as their life's purpose and greatest work. And by 21 years old, it was apparent that no...no those weren't going to be easy. In fact, they weren't advisable for me at all. The main vision I'd had for my life essentially wasn't achievable at all. I couldn't physically have kids. It was pretty obvious I wasn't going to have a straight marriage that was going to be functional. I didn't want to adopt to be a single mother. There's nothing wrong with doing that, but it wasn't something I wanted. And my religious life was crumbling. The first string of people I told I thought I was gay (including my therapist) all seemed to be worried about my mental state and grief and loss of identity and depression. There was some of that this spring, but what they didn't know is that the worst of it had already happened 20 years prior. 21 year old me is who lost her identity. 21 year old me is who I'm pretty sure was outright depressed and couldn't admit it to anyone. 21 year old me is who started down a path of gaining a massive amount of weight. 21 year old me is who felt very alone in all this. Band saved me (or at least helped me limp through it).
At a time when I couldn't see a purpose in my life, I could go to a basketball game and play a bunch of basically cheerful, fun songs (I don't think it's physically possible to play "Hey Baby" and not smile). I couldn't be a mother, but I could make sure the freshman trumpets knew how to march our way and stay after a rehearsal to help the inevitable poor terrified freshman 3rd trumpet finish learning their part to the "William Tell Overture" during early week (they had to demonstrate they had the pre-game show music memorized by the end of that week to continue on). At a time I felt betrayed by my body and by God, I could go to a sportsball game and scream myself hoarse and it was totally acceptable and actually encouraged. And then, in college athletic bands in particular, trumpets love to play really high and really loud (and I had pretty good range at the time. It was one of the few things I did have that was genuinely good). There's something really visceral about playing the "screamer" notes. The way you do it is to essentially take the deepest breath you can possibly take, tense up every muscle in your body (particularly your abs), and then blow as hard as you can possibly blow and pray to God in Heaven the note comes out. When it works out, it can be very satisfying. And when you're having an identity crisis and losing all motivation when taking Differential Equations (the final class of the calculus series) when you're not a particularly gifted mathematician (and by "not gifted" I mean bad. Those classes were incredibly hard for me. Don't do that, by the way. that's a horrible life decision), it's incredibly cathartic.
I don't even like sports that much (shhh. don't tell anyone). I don't hate them. I enjoy watching games with friends and family because I enjoy the social experience of it, but I never watch games on my own and don't really follow them. I enjoy listening to people talk about my college team because it makes them happy (and when I was in school, could reasonably carry on a conversation about it because I was immersed in it). But, 21 year old me could go to those games and pour everything emotionally into those games, feel kinda good at something (anything) for a few hours, feel some shred of a purpose (I couldn't be a wife, but damn it, I could help fill out a that first trumpet roster for rent-a-win game nobody wanted to play at or I could cheer on my team or I could chat and laugh with a fan). It was the one thing in my life I felt like I could semi-control. And then, as a reward, I got to travel with the pep bands when the teams went to conference or NCAA tournaments. It was this one good thing in my life at probably easily the lowest point of my life thus far. It was the best and worst time of my life because of band.
Things got better after college. I poured myself into my first job and into the worship team at my first church after college and both went really well. I got a dog (who was my best friend) in my first apartment. I eventually moved to a city where I met some of the best friends of my life. And now I'm working on accepting who and what I am. I have a support system of friends who know exactly what's going on. I have a real, actual therapist who's helping me deal with this. It's been a long time since I was in that place and I'm in a considerably better place now.
But for that time back at 21, band was my therapy. It and the lessons it taught me are how I survived that time.
(song reference)
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