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sarabareillesbrasil · 4 years

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“Kaleidoscope Heart” completa 10 anos!

Hoje o álbum “Kaleidoscope Heart” completa 10 anos de lançamento!

Lançado em 7 de Setembro de 2010, é o terceiro álbum de estúdio de Sara Bareilles, com 13 músicas e uma faixa bônus. O álbum estreiou em número um na Billboard 200, vendendo 90.000 cópias em sua primeira semana.

O álbum contou com três singles: “King of Anything”, que rendeu uma nomeação ao Grammy por Best Female Pop Vocal Performance, “Uncharted” e “Gonna Get Over You”, que ganhou uma versão com o cantor Ryan Tedder, do OneRepublic. Também tivemos o “Kaleidoscope EP”, com uma versão demo de “Gonna Get Over You”, “Send me the Moon” e a versão em cordas de ”King of Anything”.

Lançamento dos singles:

King of Anything: 10 de Maio de 2010.

Uncharted: 13 de Janeiro de 2011.

Gonna Get Over You: 16 de Setembro de 2011.

Em 1 de Julho de 2010, Sara divulgou em seu site:

“Eu estou oficialmente divulgando o nome do Álbum! (rufem os tambores, por favor).

Chama “Kaleidoscope Heart”.

(aplausos ruidosos e ooohs e aaahs como se o público estivesse olhando para um elefante rosa flutuante que fala português, por favor.)

Eu escolhi o nome do álbum meses antes de eu sequer ter terminado de escrever as músicas. Eu amo as imagens que essas palavras geram, e elas são realmente representativas de como eu visualizo meu coração. É uma soma colorida mas fragmentada, sempre em mutação de todos os pedaços que o formam. Um caleidoscópio é a ferramenta que ajuda a bagunça a fazer sentido. Ou que pelo menos faz com que seja bonito de olhá-la. :)

Mais importante, eu chamei o álbum de “Kaleidoscope Heart” porque, assim como meu sobrenome, as pessoas vão errar a ortografia pra caramba.

Há beleza nisso.

Ou pelo menos eu continuo me divertindo com isso.

Eu espero que você goste…

Beijos e abraços,

Sara”

Nós certamente gostamos!

Foi através da música “Uncharted” que o álbum nasceu. Sara estava no meio de um bloqueio criativo terrível “Eu começava várias músicas e não conseguia terminar nenhuma delas.” “Começou como uma nuance até se tornar muito assustador. Eu estava tendo pensamentos irracionais de “talvez eu nunca mais escreva uma música novamente.” Você começa a adentrar nessas novas profundidades de autodúvida e aí numa tarde, “Uncharted” surgiu do nada. Foi um lugar para que eu me soltasse de todos esses medos, e foi como um relâmpago. Assim que eu terminei de escrevê-la, o resto do álbum veio junto”.

Em “Kaleidoscope Heart”, Sara buscou se arriscar mais: “Eu fiz a escolha consciente de fazer isso porque eu acho que é quando você está se alongando e crescendo que realmente consegue se ver brilhar e não tentando mudar, mas apenas se desafiando a ser seu melhor. Então eu escolhi escrever músicas que fossem mais difíceis de tocar e mais difíceis de cantar, porque eu gosto da ideia de que eu ainda posso crescer e me desenvolver como uma performer.” “Eu não queria me limitar ou me auto editar muito então eu fiz o que me trouxe uma sensação boa. Eu me diverti muito gravando esse álbum.”

“Eu sou uma pessoa muito mais confiante agora do que eu era quando eu gravei meu primeiro álbum. Eu estou mais velha, obviamente, e ganhei mais experiência. Eu não estava tão assustada dessa vez e eu acho que a música reflete isso. Eu tentei escrever músicas em que eu estava empolgada com a mensagem mas que parecem um pouco mais pra cima. Eu acho que o álbum reflete isso de um jeito bem autobiográfico. É totalmente o que eu tenho passado, estive preocupada com mudanças e com o que passei em relacionamentos e como um ser humano mesmo.”

“Esse álbum tem um som diferente, e eu atribuo isso ao meu produtor Neal Avron, ele tem um background de rock e eu não, e o que eu amo nele é que ele é um casamento natural entre uma sonoridade mais agressiva e ainda sim minha composição e estilo. Eu não sinto que eu tenha feito um álbum rock e sim uma versão mais acelerada do que já estava lá.” Avron também a incentivou a se manter fiel a seus instintos e fazer de “Kaleidoscope Heart” tão pessoal quanto “Little Voice”.

“Pra mim, sempre foi sobre ser honesta e me permitir ser vulnerável e mostrar todas as minhas partes feias, o medo, a ansiedade e a tristeza. Eu acho que isso dá as pessoas a coragem de partilhar uma com os outras.”

Foto: Heidi Ross.

Confira Sara falando sobre alguma das músicas do álbum:

King of Anything

Essa é uma música em que ela dá um chega pra lá nas pessoas que gostam de “dizer tudo que você está fazendo de errado”.

Devido ao bloqueio criativo que está passando, Sara estava “com medo de voltar porque tendo o sucesso inesperado que tive com o primeiro álbum e o sucesso acidental de “Love Song” – que ninguém, incluindo eu mesma e a gravadora, estava esperando – eu simplesmente não sabia o que fazer ou o que falar depois disso.”

Após ter começado a escrever novamente, ela mandou músicas para os executivos da gravadora pra ver o que eles achavam. E logo ela descobriu que eles tinham muitos pensamentos – e não apenas sobre as músicas.

“Foi a última música que eu escrevi antes de ir pro estúdio, e foi nesse momento que eu comecei a compartilhar a música com meu círculo interno e comecei a receber feedback. Eu lembro de perceber vividamente “Ah, eu esqueci que isso fazia parte. Todo mundo te fala o que eles acham que você deveria fazer”. Eu percebi que estava ficando defensiva. Essa música foi um tipo de conversa motivacional e foi o que “Love Song” foi.”

“O ataque de opinião externa, que é algo difícil de metabolizar de qualquer modo, fez com que “King of Anything” se tornasse uma resposta bem específica pra um sentimento geral de feedback que eu simplesmente não estava interessada.”

“Eu era meio teimosa, de um modo, e aquela parte de mim que eu realmente aprecio, que se manteve intacta, é esse eu teimoso.”

“Eu não estava mais pedindo permissão. Eu estava tentando guiar minha visão.”

Say You’re Sorry

Em uma entrevista, é comentado que Sara havia começado o processo de gravação com quatro músicas que a empolgavam e que o resto do álbum ainda não estava desenvolvido. Ela comenta um pouco sobre isso e se foi mais difícil escrever algumas delas.

“’Tem uma música chamada “Say You’re Sorry” que é na verdade uma segunda encarnação. Foi uns dois anos atrás quando eu a escrevi pela primeira vez, mas era mais uma balada. Para esse álbum, eu estava pensando nela de um jeito novo. Eu não diria que nenhuma dessas músicas foram particularmente difíceis de escrever. Se elas chegaram a entrar pro álbum, elas são as que vieram mais fáceis, eu acho. Tiveram várias músicas que não entraram pro álbum que eram ruins e foram difíceis de escrever. Mas, essas músicas de um modo geral, foram as minhas favoritas da fornada. Elas foram na verdade as mais fáceis de me conectar.”

Let The Rain

“Para esse álbum, eu estava lidando com muito ansiedade e preocupação sobre o que estava por vir. Quando eu olho para esse corpo de trabalho, eu vejo um tema de abraçar a mudança, e como eu passei por toda aquela ansiedade foi um pouco como pisar no fogo. “’Let the Rain” é toda sobre confrontar o seu medo, e abraçar a ideia de renascimento, e meio que ir se soltando do passado. Se permitir renascer em seja o que for que você deva ser nesse momento. O primeiro verso meio que diz tudo. São todas essas coisas que passam pela sua cabeça: “Eu gostaria de ser bonita/ gostaria de ser corajosa…”. Sabe, se eu pudesse fazer todas essas coisas do jeito que eu gostaria, eu me sentiria como um tipo de super-herói. Mas, isso não é realidade ao menos que você realmente sucumba às suas próprias falhas e as abrace e ame a si mesma por elas.”

Bluebird

““Bluebird” é, em um modo, sobre renascimento num sentido diferente. “Let The Rain” é meio que uma ideia muito mais ampla e abrangente. “Bluebird” é especificamente sobre o que isso significa quando está relacionado com um fim de relacionamento. É se deixar voar de uma situação que não funciona mais ou não é mais feliz, e meio que se despedaçou. Sabe, é ir embora de algo não de uma maneira derrotada, de uma maneira que te faz sentir otimista sobre as possibilidades.”

Hold My Heart

De acordo com a apresentação de Sara live at ITunes Soho, “Hold My Heart” é sobre o medo de que ninguém vai entender você e seus segredos escondidos, e sobre tentar ter esperança que as pessoas irão entender. Essa música foi brevemente falada sobre no capítulo “Many the Miles” no livro que Sara escreveu “Sounds Like Me: My Life (So Far) in Song”.

Not Alone

Essa música aborda sua nova casa - onde ela morava sozinha. “Eu escrevi essa música para mim mesma. Faz com que eu me sinta construtiva com algo que pode ser muito debilitante. Se você pegar teu medo e torná-lo em algo que seja útil, aí não parece que ele venceu.”

Curiosidade

No minuto 2:32 da música “Not Alone”, Sara utilizou uma frase dita por Alfred Hitchcock em uma entrevista. É a própria voz do diretor que diz:

“You see, nothing has changed since Red Riding Hood. So, what they’re frightened of today are exactly the same things they were frightened of yesterday.”

“Veja, nada mudou desde a Chapeuzinho Vermelho. Então, o que eles temem hoje são exatamente as mesmas coisas que eles temiam ontem.”

Machine Gun

“Eu escrevi “Machine Gun” como uma ajuda a mim mesma pra construir minhas defesas de voltar ao mundo de ser criticado.“

Foto: Heidi Ross.

Escute o álbum!

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Referências

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vyci2AQpZKI http://popdirt.com/sara-bareilles-names-her-new-album-kaleidoscope-heart/79025/ https://genius.com/albums/Sara-bareilles/Kaleidoscope-heart https://americansongwriter.com/qa-sara-bareilles/ https://www.seventeen.com/celebrity/a11702/sara-bareilles-interview/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYpu2W2rJ6s https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129607541 https://www.bustle.com/p/sara-bareilles-on-the-stories-behind-8-of-her-most-personal-songs-17008410 https://sarabmusic.com/music/ https://www.music-news.com/news/UK/39711/news https://www.reuters.com/article/us-bareilles/sara-bareilles-learning-to-enjoy-mainstream-success-idUSTRE67R0N820100828 https://www.huffingtonpost.com.au/entry/sara-bareilles-talks-sing-off_n_1016060

#SaraBareilles KaleidoscopeHeart

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langrel-a · 8 years

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Sara Bareilles: The Singer Who Soundtracked My Sexual Assaults

TW: A whole bunch of stuff, just FYI.

I had just gotten an iPhone (which was promptly stolen only a few months later), and the first album I bought was Sara Bareilles’ Kaleidoscope Heart. It was her newest album at the time, and dammit I was going to memorize every song if it killed me. You see, Bareilles’ music has always had a special place in my heart: she’s one of my dad and I’s favorite singers. I’ve always been close with my father, we go on long car rides together, we talk, we joke—he’s the first person I want to call with good news, and the first person I want to cry to when life becomes overwhelming. He’s always believed in me, in my ability to do anything I put my mind to. When I graduated from high school I treated myself to tickets to a Sara Bareilles concert at The House of Blues in San Diego and took my dad. We were the first in line, we got front of the line passes—my dad was taking no chances. He stood right at the front, in the center, he’s literally in every video from that night.

He’s the first person I called with the news that I’d been selected to go on a paid research trip. I couldn’t believe it, me? A college freshman, a girl who’d never even been out of my home state, traveling over 5,000 miles away? Being on a plane for the first time in my life? My dad was so excited for me, he kept saying that this is what I deserved for all my hard work, that it was proof of how smart and hardworking I was. My dad’s the one who drove me to the airport, the one who helped me pack all of the necessities—I was going to a place 11 hours from a proper city, no running water, no electricity, and no paved road in or out. On our way to the airport that morning we played Kaleidoscope Heart the whole way—my dad and I singing at the top of our lungs to King of Anything and attempting to match Bareilles’ smooth mournful tone in Basket Case. I boarded my plane and made sure my playlist for the 5-hour flight was set. It was almost divine providence that Uncharted played, just as the wheels of the plane lifted off the ground. I was soaring through the air for the first time, leaving the only state I’d ever known for a place I had no concept of. I grew up in a large city, I’d never seen a forest, never seen large wild animals, never visited a place where the sun didn’t set in the summer. It was Bareilles’ voice in my ear that comforted me, made me feel closer to my father, made me feel brave and excited.

I'm going down,//Follow if you want, I won't just hang around,//Like you'll show me where to go,//I'm already out of foolproof ideas, so don't ask me how//To get started, it's all uncharted...

For the most part the trip was incredible. I had never seen so many trees, had never seen a glacier or a moose or a bear. I’d never been in an outhouse or seen solar panels up close. The air was clean and beautiful, and you could drink water straight out of the river. I admit, that surprised me the most. Back home no one would dare drink out of the L.A. river. The mountains were huge, and as the sun traveled from one side of the horizon to the other, the summer flowers atop their peaks shone like fire. I had never felt so in awe of nature, so grateful and so excited. I hiked for the first time, built a fire, warmed my own bathwater, washed clothes with stones and a bucket—I admit I felt like a badass. The city girl—born and raised—roughing it in the woods. I felt invincible. All the while I listened to Kaleidoscope Heart, drew what I saw, and journaled. I wanted to feel close to my dad, to my family and friends back home. I wanted to bring a piece of them there with me, so they could be part of the journey I was on.

I want to let the rain come down//Make a brand new ground//Let the rain come down

When my assailant came, there was no warning that everything was about to change. There were no flashing lights or danger signs telling me that my blissful adventure was about to reach a screeching halt. We were never formally introduced and I had never even said hello to him. All I knew was that he was there for entirely different purpose from my research trip. I was staying one room down from where he was. The building we were in was an old wooden store built over 100 years ago. There was no insulation—save for whatever beehives may have lived in the walls—and the foundation was slowly sinking, making most of the rooms tilt at an odd angle. It was one of only a handful of buildings still standing. The first time I ever came in contact with him, I was alone. I was in the large dining area, looking out at the entrance where windows lined the walls and you could see outside. The sun was low on the horizon, having dipped as far as it was going to go, so though it was late at night, you could still see everything. My back was to the entrance to the kitchen. I had looked back once to see him standing there, but I thought nothing of it and continued to look out. That’s when I felt him behind me.

He attacked me from behind, and I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move, I didn’t scream or shout. I just froze. I kept looking out the windows, hoping no one would see what was happening. My heart was racing, and I felt paralyzed. I didn’t even move after he left, I just stayed there, staring at the mountains. I don’t know how long it was until I moved. I was in a haze. It was as if my soul had left my body, I couldn’t feel anything, I couldn’t hear anything. I was a machine, going through the motions, climbing the stairs, climbing into bed. I stayed awake for hours, just staring at the wooden wall. I didn’t close the curtains, and looking back, it felt as if that day never ended. It’s as if it’s still happening. I could hear him snoring down the hall, and I just kept staring straight ahead. I didn’t even have thoughts in my head. I was hollow, empty, completely devoid of emotion. I had stared into an impossibly deep abyss only to realize I was looking at myself. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, the next thing I remember I was sitting up, putting on clothes and taking a walk. I put my headphones in, let Sara comfort me. Somehow though, it sounded different. When I heard her sing, when I thought of my dad, I only felt a deep sense of shame. What would my dad think of me? I felt stupid, and weak. I kept telling myself that “I’m not the type of girl that doesn’t say anything,” and that I was being overdramatic, it wasn’t that bad I thought. I couldn’t accept what had happened, because it challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. I was rigid in my thinking and instead I chose to blame myself, to bury it and pretend it hadn’t happened. It worked, if only temporarily. It was a few days later, as I was sitting in a tiny room deemed the library that I saw him again. I had my headphones in and was working furiously on my research. I saw the door open, saw him come toward me. I looked back at my screen. To this day, I have no idea what I was so focused on. All I remember is him coming up behind me, telling me it was great to have a beautiful girl around, touching my hair. When he left, I rushed to my room. It was only 5 feet away. I closed the door and put Sara on again to drown out the sounds of his footsteps creaking on the old wooden floors. I don’t remember much, all I remember is wanting to throw up, feeling like I was stupid and that it was my fault for not saying anything. I remember clinging to my journal, my drawings, and most of all my phone. I just wanted to feel connected to something other than this place.

The second time he assaulted me, I was alone, in the kitchen. I had Sara Bareilles playing, loudly from my phone’s speaker, and I was singing along. It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, the flowers in bloom, you could hear the river right near where I was staying. I had the door to the outside open, and was preparing food for dinner. It was Bluebird that was playing the second time he came up behind me.

And so here we go bluebird//Gather your strength and rise up.

I still hear it sometimes—when I have a nightmare or it will just be there in the back of my mind. I remember focusing on it, imagining myself flying away. I held onto that voice, it was a life raft and I tried to think of nothing else. Then, when it was all over, he told me I had a beautiful voice. Looking back, I would have rather he just stabbed me. That compliment, it was as if he’d taken claim to a piece of me. My voice wasn’t mine anymore, the music I made wasn’t mine anymore, the expression, the emotion that came from me when I sang, wasn’t mine anymore. This time, I didn’t shut down. I grabbed my phone, my headphones, and walked to a bridge right over the glacial river. I was ready to jump. I had been a swimmer all my life, and I figured my family would just assume it was an accident. I was overconfident, thought I could swim across the river and was pulled under. It would be tragic but my parents would just assume it had been quick, that’d I’d been having an adventure and isn’t that the best way to go—happy? No one would ever know, I could end it right there, in the bright sunshine, as if nothing had ever happened.

Does anybody know how to hold my heart//How to hold my heart?//'Cause I don't want to let go, let go, let go too soon.

That was what stopped me. I know most of the songs on the album are about a lover, but with one foot literally over the edge, those words reached me. I don’t know why, I really don’t. Maybe it was the idea that my dad would be heartbroken. That he’d have to identify my body, that he’d never enjoy the music again because he’d never be able to enjoy the memory of me again. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t take that away from him. It would hurt him every time he turned on the radio, or watched a certain movie, or read a certain book. I stepped back, and I cried.

The rest of the trip, I couldn’t put her music on. It became something ugly. I wanted to rip the music out of my mind, cut it out of me in some way. My assailant took Sara from me. The only album I had with me, the only thing that could’ve comforted me, now felt like torture. It only served to remind me of what had happened, reinforced that voice in my head that said I was stupid, that it was my fault, that I was a coward who almost took my own life. I couldn’t punish him, so I was punishing myself, and without the music, I truly did feel alone. He’d taken this beautiful new experience and he blackened it. When I came home, I buried everything. I shoved the bad so far down, under so many layers of guilt, and then padlocked it away with so many other bad experiences, that for about a month, I forgot about it. It wasn’t until a friend was raped only a month-two months later that it all came back.

For almost a whole year after that, there was no music.

There was anti-violence activism I got involved in, public speaking and meeting with lawmakers and officials. There was drugs, alcohol, cutting, smoking, and two suicide attempts. But there was no Sara. I couldn’t listen to her music. I felt as if I lost my identity. Her music only seemed to remind me of what didn’t exist anymore. Where was the strong girl who always swore she’d stick up for herself? Swore she’d never do drugs, or cut herself because “that’s what people do for attention” ? I was so ashamed of myself—the way I froze, the way I was(n’t) coping. Listening to her music, it reminded me of my dad. He didn’t know what was going on, not really. He’d seen me on the news, was proud of the work I was doing, but I always sidestepped the conversation about what happened. I couldn’t tell him, hell I couldn’t even tell myself. Of all the things that terrified me, his disappointment was at the top of the list. I thought he’d be ashamed of me, of how I acted during and after. I’ve never told him how bad it all got. He’s never seen the scars that run down my thigh from where I had cut at myself, never heard about how I almost jumped from a building. It was the second suicide attempt that drove me to seek more intense help. I started taking medication, started committing to therapy, I began immersing myself in art and music again. Still, I hadn’t touched Kaleidoscope Heart since the assaults. It was in May 2013 that I first heard Blessed Unrest. It’s a fitting title to the 11 months I had had. I was staying at a friend’s place, I had just broken off the friendship I had with my friend who had also been assaulted. We were dealing with things in different ways and were only hurting each other. I had moved from my dorm to a friend’s apartment for two weeks until my apartment was ready. I was just getting into therapy. The people at the apartment, they didn’t know me, but they welcomed me with open arms. They helped me move into my apartment two weeks later. It felt like a whole new start. I was still smoking, and cutting, but I was solidly on the mend. It was the first apartment I’d ever lived in: a tiny 4 bedroom with five people, all of whom were amazing. I would go to work, therapy, the movies, the bookstore, the comic store—I just enjoyed my freedom, I felt alive, I felt as if several broken bones were finally healing.

This is so you'll know the sound//Of someone who loves you from the ground//Tonight you're not alone at all//This is me sending out my satellite call

Those were the first lines I heard Sara sing after a year of literal radio silence. It was as if a long-lost friend had come back. Here she was, singing to me—telling me just what I needed to hear. Here I was, ready to hear it, ready to listen to the music again. My relationship with my dad had become different. I felt like I couldn’t talk to him about what had happened, how I was dealing with it. But Sara Bareilles? Now there’s something my dad and I can always talk about. I felt connected to him again, I felt hopeful for the first time in such a long time. It was proof that time went on, and that underneath all the trauma I was still me, I still liked the same things. I was different, but that didn’t mean I was destroyed. Blessed Unrest was like a bright light in the pitch black, showing me the way back to the pieces of myself that had changed but still mattered.

Say what you wanna say//And let the words fall out//Honestly, I wanna see you be brave

I started devouring the album, and it wasn’t long until the network of other anti-violence activists I worked with adopted Brave and Satellite Call as a kind of anthem.

I'll get my little black dress on//And if I put on my favorite song//I'm gonna dance until you're all gone//I'll get my little black dress on

My apartment mate even took a liking to Little Black Dress after I spent a night playing it loudly while I cleaned my room. The music was bringing me closer to people—it was connecting me, however tenuously, with others. I’m still very much a solitary individual, but listening to Blessed Unrest, I didn’t feel so lonely when I was alone.

Tonight//Come on, come on collide//Break me to pieces I//I think you're just like heaven

These were the words I heard as I was sitting in a hammock under the tree in my apartment complex. I had just come from a therapy appointment, where I had been asked to take a leap of faith. I had spent my life believing that everything bad that happened was my fault, and that when good things happened it was luck. If I celebrated any of my achievements, I was being boastful and would be punished with bad luck. I wasn’t doing well in school because I was smart, it was because I was lucky. If I say I’m smart, I’m inviting trouble. If I didn’t tell myself I was stupid, then I wouldn’t work hard and I’d fail. I was always waiting around for the other shoe to drop, all the while I was treating myself in a way that could only be described as self-abusive. It’s how I had coped for so long, how I had dealt with life’s problems. I wanted control, I wanted to know how things would turn out before I did anything (it’s the reason I still read a movie’s wiki page before buying tickets). So, when she said to me that the only way to know if stopping the abusive self-talk would lead to terrible or good things, was to take a leap of faith and simply try strategies to stop the cycle, it stopped me in my tracks. What my therapist had said, it struck a chord—it made me want to really put in practice the things she was suggesting. Listening to Cassiopeia, I felt as if my thought process was in words. Why not let the two worlds collide—my therapist’s ideas and mine? Something new just might emerge, something bright and wonderful. Needless to say, it did—her advice was top notch—and it was hard work putting into practice things that felt so foreign, but they changed me for the better.

For the next two years, I continued to grow and change. I ultimately stopped cutting and smoking, established stable friendships, and went back to art. In May 2015 I graduated magna cum laude with my Bachelor’s degree. I had done an honor’s senior thesis, I had helped write policy, state and federal law, had met and worked with some powerful and amazing people. However, coming back home after graduation had felt equal parts failure and relief. I wanted to be near my friends again, my family, the people who had always loved me unconditionally. At the same time, I was disappointed—all of my well laid plans had crumbled, I had no money, no job prospects. I felt myself wondering what my life would have been like if I’d never been assaulted. Who would I be? Where would I be? It was around this time that Sara Bareilles’ What’s Inside: Songs From Waitress came out. I wasn’t looking for it, honestly, I hadn’t expected her to release an album for a few years after all the touring she did, but Spotify recommended She Used To Be Mine to me, and I couldn’t resist. I immediately told my dad about her new music before I even listened to it. It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after quitting my first job out of college due to discrimination, that I really listened to the song.

It's not what I asked for//Sometimes life just slips in through a back door//And carves out a person//And makes you believe it's all true

I cried the first few times, I won’t lie. It’s a bittersweet ballad, equal parts acceptance and melancholy. My life isn’t all doom and gloom and I’ve done some pretty amazing things I wouldn’t have otherwise done if something so terrible hadn’t happened. But, much like in the song, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go back and change things if I could.

If I'm honest I know I would give it all back//For a chance to start over//And rewrite an ending or two//For the girl that I knew

The girl I was, I don’t know her future anymore. That was taken from me, all I know is the person I am now. It doesn’t mean I can’t miss her, or think about her. She Used To Be Mine feels like the kind of thing I’d send my past self in a letter, to let her know I miss her, but that ultimately I’m ok, that I’m going to be ok.

I don’t know why the music always fits so perfectly (granted I’m not a single mother working as a waitress, so ‘perfectly’ may be overselling it slightly). If I’m honest, Sara Bareilles isn’t even my favorite singer of all time. Don’t get me wrong, she’s in my top 5, but I wouldn’t call myself a super fan by any means. I don’t follow her on twitter or even visit her website. Yet, I find myself sharing the strangest of connections with her music, with her words and her melodies. It’s as if she’s been there throughout the hard times in my life, with just the right advice.

I still can’t listen to some of the songs on Kaleidoscope Heart and I still don’t sing in front of people. In the last 4 and a half years following the assault I’ve stood up for myself, through my advocacy, my work, my academics, and the reclaiming of the things I enjoy. But, much like I can’t go back in time and be the girl I was before all of this, there are some things I can’t get back. There are also some things I don’t want to change, like the feelings I get when I listen to Blessed Unrest, or the love and support I feel from my family and friends or all of the amazing work I’ve been a part of to make other survivors’ lives better. I went to see her again a few years ago, in the time between getting better and graduation. My dad and I stood in the front row, together. We got Pink’s hotdogs afterward, we listened to Blessed Unrest the whole way down to the concert and back. It felt right to share that with my dad again. It felt normal, and fun.

Ultimately, I want to say thank you to Sara Bareilles. I doubt many people, her included, will ever read this, but if by chance you are, I want you to know you helped me find my strength. Your music didn’t just have the misfortune of being the soundtrack to my assault, it was the soundtrack to my recovery, it was what helped me stop with one foot literally over the ledge, and for that I can only offer you my deepest gratitude.

But hold them and keep them And know that you need them When your breaking point's all that you have A dream is a soft place to land May we all be so lucky

TL;DR In 2012 I was sexually assaulted, twice by the same man, all in the span of about a week. This is the story of how I got better and how Sara Bareilles eerily seemed to have my back.

#sara bareilles #kaleidoscopeheart #blessedunrest #assault #sexualassault #music #emotional #suicide #cutting #drugs #recovery #therapy #activism #trigger warning

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