I too (as other commentators did) appreciate this article. My relationship with music has always been less predictable and easy to understand than I'd like it t

I too (as other commentators did) appreciate this article. My relationship with music has always been less predictable and easy to understand than I'd like it to be. I have always loved music, but as I've gotten older and stabler and healed more from earlier psychological hardships (and maybe just matured from a young adult into an adult), my connection to it and its ability to make me feel have receded. For some reason, it is only in my moments of greatest need that I am able to reach inside and access an extremely strong, resonant connection -- whether it is listening to it, or writing it. But maybe it's that way for a reason. I still have scars on my arm from putting my fist through a glass window as an angsty teen. They remind me of how I too could be someone who "could have lost his second arm had he lost the battle to his inner demons." I probably would have struggled to articulate this earlier, but as the article states, "...I learned to stop just stewing and being mad and wallowing in that feeling. I learned to do something about things that made me mad and this was the best thing I ever learned." This hits home for me. I was a lot more rootlessly, aimlessly, existentially depressed earlier on in my life and in my career. Depressed in a way that made it very easy for me to have a very strong and particular kind of connection to music, but which served as a stand-in for an inability to do something about my woes. Once I began to get better at solving the root causes of my woes, my life improved, but that very specific kind of connection to music faded. I was never a professional, but perhaps what's true for the drummer is true for me: "The music was still in there. It just needed to be redirected elsewhere." Thanks again for this article, OP.