I used to sing in the car.

It didn’t matter what was on the radio – Carrie Underwood, Britney Spears, Steppenwolf, Michael Buble, Jay-Z.  I even have Moses Hogan CD’s that I popped in, just to belt out Elijah Rock (don’t know what that is?  youtube it. you won’t regret it, I promise).  It was a free-for all for harmony.  Except  Nickelback.  I hate Nickelback.  & speaking of harmony?  I had it.  I could sing a third or a fifth with pretty much any song, thanks to four years in high school chorus.  I was that nerd that belted out show tunes, using hands for gestures, completely oblivious to the stares from other drivers.  I had no shame.  No worry.  Just pure exhilaration.

About eight months ago, I stopped singing.

& I didn’t even realize it.

Sometimes, it’s those little things that make me realize how sick I was this past year.  I stopped singing.  I stopped finding joy, searching for joy, or even wanting joy in my life.  The little things that made me who I am, that made me happy…they all slipped away.  Little parts of my soul that made up my quirks & character.  I became a shell of a person.

The other day, I put in an old Relient K album, turned up the volume.  Without a care in the world, I took in a deep breath & began belting it out with the band.  It didn’t matter that I sounded like a strangled cat in a garbage disposal.  It only mattered that the windows were down & a little boy was happily chirping in the backseat.  It struck me as odd & a little uncomfortable, which confused me…until I thought, “I haven’t done this in so long.”  I had not felt that free, that light, or that searching of little joys in the day.

But these days, I’m singing again.

me & mrs. lusher, belting out kelly clarkson.