My Safe Place: Music as therapy

“My Safe Place” consists of anonymous stories of students’ life experiences. It is a place to express their tribulations in return for healing and encouragement.

We were friends with maybe a little more to our friendship. We used to talk, make out at times and cuddle. He had grown to be someone that I trusted and felt comfortable around. Until one day I guess he became just a little too comfortable. We were making out as usual, then his hands began to wonder to other places. I admit, I allowed his hands to continue to flow. While taking a moment from kissing to say, “We are not having sex.” You see, although I was interested in making out and some other things, I was a virgin and I wasn’t interested and changing that no time soon. But I guess he didn’t care about what I wanted, because in the end he just took what wasn’t his. I remember being pinned down, not able to move. Saying, “stop”, “no”, “don’t.” At this point I was just wasting my breath, because before I knew it he was inside of me. What just happened? How did someone that I trusted and thought of as a friend just violate me like this? Why can’t I move, why won’t he get off of me? Why didn’t he listen when I told him to get up, can’t he hear me? Is my voice not powerful enough or did it get drowned out by his personal will for power and control? 

After that day, it was like my voice was gone forever. I didn’t know how to open up to those who loved me and tell them what had happened. I was closed off and distant, I didn’t even like being hugged by my mom. Would they believe me and protect me, or will they betray me like the last person that I trusted did? Screw it! No one understands me, I’m in this on my own. Well, at least I thought. Then I turned on my music, Avril Lavigne to exact. Ah, yes, she gets me. Surely she wrote these songs just for me, just for this time in my life. I mean, why else would every song and lyric speak so loudly to how I was feeling?

You see before I opened up to my mom about me being raped, then the officers who interrogated me at school (worst experience ever) and my counselor, my escape was music. Music became that place where I could cry, yell and scream through the lyrics that had seemingly been written just for me. Although, the music often times drowned out my poor vocals, it also gave me an avenue to express my emotions in a safe place. Music was very therapeutic for me and aided me to get to a place of healing. For that, I’m forever grateful. I don’t know where I’d be without my safe place that I call music. 

– Safe Zone