Repetitive Stress Injuries: Temporarily Side-lined

Some aspects of pain are a natural byproduct of learning an instrument and are to be expected.  For stringed instrument players building calluses on the finger tips is an excellent example of this.  You practice until you’re uncomfortable, then stop and try again later.  Eventually your fingers grow accustomed to the sensation of working the strings and you build sufficient callus on the each finger to no longer have an issue with it.  Working unfamiliar muscles can result in lactic acid buildup which brings a different sort of discomfort, but one that most folks who have exercised are familiar with.   Stretching is vital to avoid many injuries, but it is also an area that is not addressed very often in the learning process.  Most of the time it comes up when an injury is either forming or has already manifested itself.

I have been having some issues with might right elbow that indicate that I probably have a repetitive stress injury that is impacting the ulnar nerve.  It seems to be a bass-centric injury in that the worst symptoms arise when I’ve been working with the bass as opposed to the guitar.  I’ve concluded that the ergonomics of my guitar playing are different than my bass playing.  One of my doctors agrees, and after noting the worsening of the symptoms, she stated that I should take an extended break from bass playing before the symptoms became even worse and started impacting my guitar playing as well.  She also advocated finding a good physical therapist to get me started on the road to recovery.  While this area is not her primary area of expertise, she is no stranger to RSIs as she has been dealing with her own for several years now.

So this has left me with a definite dilemma, as I am active in three bands as the bassist.  All three expect rehearsals and one is a semi regular three set a night band.  It was during the most recent gig with that one that I came to the realization that the problem needed to be dealt with in one way or another.  We were performing in a local watering hole and about half way through the second set the pain started in my elbow, followed by numbness and prickling running down my forearm.  If it had been my left arm I would have worried about my heart, but it was my right and not radiating from the shoulder.  By the end of the second set I was in significant pain and my right hand was starting to go numb in the ring finger and little finger.  The situation simply worsened through the third set, but I grunted my way through it; not necessarily the best decision health wise, but I made it through the gig.

If this had been a one-time occurrence I would have left it at that, but this has actually been building for some time now.  I have been having pain in the elbow there for some time and bouts of prickling and numbness running down my arm in that area that has come and gone.  I’d mentioned the prickling in passing to my PCP when I had my annual physical, but she was more concerned with some other things at that point and it was an “oh yeah, almost forgot about it,” comment on my part.  Given that my current symptoms are basically classic for some variation of tennis elbow, I’m fairly confident that I know what’s going on and my other doctor was in agreement with my assessment.  The treatment options that I have found thus far are pretty simple: rest, icing, and anti-inflammatories.  Severe cases might require surgery, which I would like to avoid.

I’ve also been exploring different positioning, moving from a five string to a four in order to change alignment, shifting strap lengths and instrument angles, and paying close attention to how my right arm responds to the changes.  I’ve been trying to move my elbow position as soon as I get any pain twinges or start feeling the prickling numbness occurring.  I traded my Carvin SB5000 five string for a Carvin Bunny Brunel BB70 four string, hoping that the difference in body shape, weight and less elbow travel to hit the low string would help.  I’m also trying to consciously play as lightly as I can with my right hand; trying to avoid digging in and working the muscles any harder than necessary.  Thus far the difference hasn’t provided any significant relief and I’m looking at another three set bass gig looming on the not so distant horizon.  The pain is under control, but the numbness and prickling are very much affected by how long I’m on the instrument at any given time.

So, I’ve started making my band members aware of my situation and have let them know that it is in all likelihood going to result in my having to take an extended break from performing on the bass.  I really don’t want this to get worse, particularly since I still can play guitar symptom free for the most part.  Thus I’m left with some pretty limited options.  We’ll see how it goes.

 

 

20 January 2017

I’ve been under the weather pretty much all week, between the onset of a cold over last weekend followed immediately by a stomach virus that is a bit on the painful side.  This was my first week back in the saddle in an academic setting, so I taught through it, but fortunately only had to push through two days at work.  It has also been pretty much a solid gray week, with one morning where the sun poked out for about an hour, and rain off and on for at least the last three days.  It’s starting to blur.  Today was a sad day all around what with the orange man taking office and immediately removing the climate change, LGBTQ and civil rights pages from the White House web site.  I’ve been trying to stay away from the book of face, but that has been difficult.  All and all, it has been a pretty dark week and the stomach virus has pretty much eliminated seeking succor in food.  Tomorrow there’s a women’s protest march in Chicago that my wife wants us to take part in as a family.  My daughter wants to make signs, but doesn’t want to be in a crowd of 50,000 people, which I understand.  I’m not a crowd person in the slightest and I have some safety concerns, but the cause is just.  I’m also concerned about whether I’m going to feel well enough to do it.

I am having difficulties with mood management this week due to all of this.  First, it has been so dark around here for the past seven to ten days that it is taking its toll despite the morning use of the “happy light.”   It is our breakfast companion.  It has been positively dreary outside between the constant overcast skies and the constant damp wetness of everything.  Even turning the lights on inside only helps a bit.  I could pull the drapes and drop the blinds on it, but then I’d really feel like I was living in a cave, something I don’t think would help.  Then there’s the whole being sick thing, and while I am thankful that the cold aspect is over, this stomach ailment is a major drag that is also affecting my intestinal tract, which probably isn’t helping my serotonin levels either.  I’ve been able to eat very little over the past three days, haven’t been able to stomach coffee, but have managed to keep up with my meds.  I’ve stopped taking the fish oil though until this passes.  It’s too unpleasant.  So the lack of sunlight combined with physical malaise has been making things rocky on the emotional front.

The advent of the orange man’s reign is also a major emotional drain that I haven’t come to grips with as of yet.  I’m not saying that I’m going to be okay with it, because that is not something I can foresee by any stretch of the imagination.  I simply cannot come to grips with how this travesty occurred, and it is plaguing me to no end.  This is a waking nightmare for me largely because I can find no evidence of a shred of decency in the man.  We’ve gone from supreme class, intelligence, and a dedicated civil servant to this narcissistic sociopath.  I’m grieving heavily for my country, and for all those people who will be harmed by this administration that has been dubbed the least qualified cabinet in our history (one of the nicer things that has been said about it).  I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up any moment and it’ll have simply been a really preposterously horrific nightmare.  Unfortunately I’m not sleeping.

One of the benchmarks of character is how we handle adversity.  Do we cave in, assume the fetal position and wait for things to pass?  Sometimes it feels like the thing to do, and I’m sure that all of us have wanted to at some point.  Right now I’m tired, and I don’t feel well both physically and emotionally.  What I really want to do is crawl off to bed, pull up the covers and go to sleep for a really long time, at least until the sun decides to shine again.  But I can’t.  I have to do, not check out until things get better.  I’ve got performances to give, lectures to teach, a family to care for, and an innate desire to resist tyranny, injustice and bigotry.  Even if I’m depressed, sick, or tired, it’s my duty as a decent human being.  So I’m resisting.

 

Making it Work: Performing When Physically Compromised, or Again with the Cracks. . .

My fingers are patched up and I made it through a couple hours of rehearsing this morning.  The thumb splits reopened but the crack in the left middle finger held.  I’ve resealed the splits and reinforced the middle finger crack with a liquid bandage that I started applying yesterday.  I have another rehearsal tonight of about three hours, one tomorrow night, Friday night and then a gig opening for The Tubes Saturday night.  With the liquid bandage I think I’ll be all right and not get too bloody.  The good news is that I just had my physical, along with my bloodwork coming back in.  No blood borne pathogens here, which is what I thought but it’s always good to have that type of opinion backed by science to prove it to be fact.  Oh, and I have a TV gig tomorrow afternoon as well, a taping session of three tunes that’s part of a Valentine’s Day program featuring Chicago area blues acts.  It’s at the Comcast Studios in Waukegan, Illinois, so here’s to that.

It wasn’t as cold in the basement this morning as it was last Thursday when the splits popped open on my thumb.  Playing in cooler environments provides me with some physical challenges.  For one thing, when the temperature is creeping under sixty degrees my hands stay quite dry, as well as the skin staying cold.  This creates a situation where the skin isn’t as flexible as it is in warmer temperatures, which leads to a greater potential for damaging it as occurred last week.  Additionally, the cooler it gets the colder the hands get no matter how hard the fingers are working.  What normally presents no speed issues suddenly breeds them as my hands simply never adequately warm up.  This also can increase the potential for acquiring a repetitive stress injury, because the muscles aren’t working in an optimal environment for relaxed movement.  Cold tends to exacerbate stiff tendons and muscles creating more tension than normally present, as well.

Right around sixty degrees used to be fine for me, but I’m getting older and my circulation isn’t what it used to be.  I have gigged outdoors when the temperatures have dropped into the low fifties, upper forties, which is downright unpleasant for a string player or any other player who can’t perform with gloves.  When I was in the southwest gigging, there were many outdoor gigs that started out at a comfortable temperature but had dropped pretty low after the sun went down and time spun along.  This was in the late fall and early winter, then early spring.  We did a lot of outdoor gigs during that time frame.  It’s pleasant to begin with, and many of the places have tall propane space heaters spread out across the patios, which keeps the folks outside eating and drinking for the evening, so you do your best to stay warm and play your heart out even if your fingers are starting to go numb.

I no longer live in the southwest.  Up here in the Chicago area, the outdoor gigs are over by the time October rolls in.  The restaurants that have music and patio dining start moving things inside as the weather starts getting dicey, so inside is the place to be.  The rehearsal areas are another thing, though, particularly if you’re not long on paying rent for a rehearsal space.  Band members’ basements are the preferred locations in this case, but they’re often not the warmest areas, particularly in the older homes like mine.  It’s still warmer than the garage with a kerosene heater though, and I’ve done plenty of time in those as well.  There, it can get painful after awhile though and the concrete flooring never really does warm up enough for my feet to not feel like ice blocks.  The basement is much better if the rest of the family can deal with the additional “noise.”

I get cracks every winter regardless of where I rehearse though, so it’s just something I have to deal with.  We all have something that we’ve simply got to play through, and we do what we can to insure that the job gets done.  For instance, Johnny A, an incredible guitarist who does awesome instrumental rock/lounge music has scoliosis, curvature of the spine.  Standing with his guitar strapped to his body for performance purposes causes him a great deal of pain, so he sits either on a stool or a chair for his performances.  It’s what works for him, so it’s what works best for the audience as well because he gives a great concert when he’s not in pain.  He and I share this issue, although mine isn’t as bad as his.  In my case I use the chair for rehearsals and gigs where I don’t have any room to move around.  If I’m stuck in one spot wedged in between the drummer and someone else all night, I’m in agony the next day.  Other people have other issues that they deal with as well.

The key to all of this is finding a way that makes the situation doable, like Johnny A with his chair, or sealing my cracked fingertips in as many coats of dab on bandage that will stay put.  There’s always going to be something that has the potential to create an impediment to a solid performance, and part of a performer’s responsibility is finding a way through the problem that delivers the goods expected.  Whether it’s summer heat, too much sweat gunking up the hands, mosquitos or whatever else the situation throws at you, it’s up to you to solve it one way or another, meet the commitment, and play your heart out regardless.  Now, it’s about time for another coat of liquid bandage. . .

 

Cracking Fingertips, a Guitarists’ Winter Plague

There’s nothing like winter to dry out hands, especially up here in the Chicago area.  Right now it’s about fourteen degrees, which isn’t too bad so far as cold goes in this area. The frigid weather brings different challenges for musicians, not the least of which is the cracking skin that often accompanies the drying hands.  It’s a real pain when it involves fingertips, which all to frequently it does.  Right now I have a deep crack running from the corner of middle left middle fingernail almost to the center of the tip of the finger.  This provides a definite challenge playing my guitar, and I’m pretty certain that I left a good DNA stamp on my Martin last night while rehearsing.  I also have some deep cracks on the tip of my right thumb that developed during rehearsal Thursday down in my basement where it might be sixty degrees Fahrenheit.  They’re not quite as much of a hassle from a playing perspective, but they are a literal pain.

I’ve tried copious use of various hand lotions, but really dislike ones that leave a slick residue on my fingers.  I hate sludgy feel on my guitar necks and strings that some of these products leave.  Regardless of what I’ve tried, every winter it’s the same story, performance after performance and rehearsal after rehearsal, trying to find a sweet spot on some injured fingertip that won’t light up my world when it hits the string.  If I manage to make it for a while in the clear, as soon as I trim my nails on my left hand I’m in for another round of cracking.  They often start so small that I don’t even realize that they’re there, until I start finding blood smears on my sheet music, or sometimes on the instrument itself.

The aspirin I take everyday slows the clotting process down as well, which in turn does nothing to aid in recovery.  Most of the cracks run in line with the finger, so each time the fingertip comes down on the string, if I haven’t lodged the string in the crack it has reopened from the pressure on the fingertip.  It’s at its worst when I’m playing steel string guitars with the narrower strings at higher tension.  The nylon still provokes the cracks, but with the bass I can play flatter which helps with muting anyway.  I can at least hit more of the finger pad itself rather then always striking on the tip.  Plus the strings are wide enough that they won’t possibly snag on the edges of the crack and pull it wider.  Yeah, another plus for going low!

Regardless of how religious I am with the hand lotions, it still happens every winter, and I have yet to find a way to really prevent it aside from moving to Florida or somewhere else warm for the winter.  When I do go to Florida or Arizona for a week or so, and escape the chafing cold, my hands feel entirely different.  The skin is more supple, and the cracks that were present finally start to heal, but as soon as they’ve gained some ground it’s back to the cold northern snowfields.  Before long it’s back to fresh splits and cracks, leaking blood and connective fluid as the body fights to rebuild and the cycle continues.

I’ve encountered this difficulty for most of my adult life here in the mid-west and on the east coast.  Ironically enough, the eight years I spent in the arid southwest were spent predominately crack free despite not even running a humidifier in our apartments.  My strings stayed fresh much longer there as well, despite the heat and regardless of how many outdoor gigs I played.  Here the strings gunk up faster, and the skin is challenged by the cold.  I’m sure that someone out there can provide scientifically deduced reasons for all of this, and I could, no doubt, do the research on the why’s myself, but my actual concern in this is how to circumvent the problem entirely.

Even caring for the injuries themselves becomes an exercise in frustration.  Most of the time when dealing with a cut the first thought is to put a Band-Aid on it, but playing with bandaged fingers isn’t a workable solution as the bandages inhibit movement and negatively affect tone production.  Superglue is something that I’ve tried in the past, and while it can provide some assistance I’m not so certain about the sanitariness of the fix.  I’ve purchased and used antiseptic adhesive that is designed for this.  It works somewhat, needs to be applied frequently, smells horrid, and peels off fairly quickly.  It can help get you through a gig and sometimes helps keep the gap closed to speed healing.  What I’d really like, however, is to find a reliable way to avoid the entire injury to begin with that doesn’t involve moving to another part of the country.

 

Being Mindful of the Physical Aspects of Music Making

One of the things I really love about playing a musical instrument is how it feels, the actual tactile experience. I particularly enjoy the feeling of fat strings under my fingers, which is one of the major reasons why I’m drawn to nylon strings. I love the breadth of the two-inch fingerboard combined with the feel of high-tension nylon strings. They’re nice and round, comfortable to push down, and visually pleasing as well. I don’t like the feel of carbon fiber trebles; they’re thinner than standard classical strings and bite into the fingers differently. Bass strings are also lovely combined with the wider fingerboard of the five string the texture and string response feels oh so good.

Playing brings a welcome tactile experience. There’s something about running up and down the fingerboard, the mechanics of the fingers meeting the strings and the clean order of solid technique being put to use. I don’t enjoy playing sloppily because it feels wrong. I’ve been trained, and trained well. I spent time developing clean playing habits, and while they’ve changed over the years due to working in different genres and the requirements thereof, my hands know the difference. Good technique inevitably feels better than bad technique, and good sound comes from good technique.

The longer I go without playing, the worse my hands feel. I’ve reached the point and the age where my hands start to stiffen and feel uncomfortable when I haven’t been playing regularly. The joints start to ache, and my palms and forearms start to feel crampy. Stretching helps somewhat, but what really makes the difference is spending a couple hours or more running the fret board, moving strings, and sending sound into the air. Doing, in this case, is far better than resting. Inevitably after working through some time on the instrument, my hands feel better, and so does the rest of me, especially when I focus on how it feels to play.

Focusing on the tactile experience also brings about healthier playing practices. There should be a sense of flow and order to the process of making the strings sing. The only physical tension that should be present is the amount needed to push down the string, initiate and maintain a clean sound. I have a tendency to carry a lot of tension in my body, particularly in my back, shoulders and neck. I also have scoliosis, which gives a pain response to tension in these areas. When I focus on the tactile process, I attempt to not only focus on the feeling of the strings under my fingers, but also on my body’s sense of relaxation. I try to keep my back, neck and shoulders as relaxed as I can, playing with as light a touch as I can while still maintaining a sense of dynamic response within the music. Musical tension might be present, but physical tension should be dismissed.

Relaxation promotes musicality, flow, and good health. Tension creates dissonance, pain and fatigue. At some point we all experience this, and we will still reach a point where we’re tired even when we’ve been maintaining a relaxed state. I have found that when tension starts to come into play my abilities decline dramatically. What was easy before now becomes difficult. My hands start to throttle the guitar or bass neck, while my shoulders start climbing toward my ears. Before long my abilities to deal with faster passages declines and emotional communication becomes static. Mistakes start multiplying and frustration escalates. By the end of the session, whether it is a gig, rehearsal or practice, I’m achy and ready for some ibuprofen. If it was a gig usually the next day is pretty physically brutal between the back pain and fatigue, often combined with a tension-induced headache. Tension also radically increases the likelihood of a repetitive stress injury that can sideline a musician for weeks. Been there, done that, don’t need to go there again!

Being mindful when playing makes a huge difference in being able to maintain a state of physical relaxation. The tactile experience should be pleasing, and when tensions starts to ratchet up being aware of the tactile experience’s divergence from pleasure to stress should be a signal. Granted, sometimes we do experience discomfort that requires working through as anyone who has ever played a steel strung acoustic guitar knows. It is necessary to build calluses in order to be able to play the instrument, and it is also necessary to train the muscles. In this case your hands and forearms are athletes and as such need to work out, stretch, recover and do it all over again to build strength and endurance. Athletes themselves seek flow, tension and release, as well as awareness of the physical process and tactile experience. They draw from this to enhance their performance, as should musicians. I can feel it, how about you?

Growing up Without Tech: A Reflection on Reality

I grew up during the sixties and seventies, entering college in the early eighties when desktop computers were something very new. There was only one kid with a computer in the entire dorm when I was a sophomore, and shortly thereafter cel phones started appearing that were the size of a brick. Once again, none of my friends had one. My childhood survived being a luddite before it was difficult not to be one, and I have adapted to a world filled with technology, as have most of my generation. I belonged to the last generation to take typing classes on IBM Selectric typewriters that were the industry standard of the time, now it is difficult to find one anywhere, let alone get ribbons for them. What I did get out of my childhood, which was also mostly without a TV, was a connection to my outside world and to the people I grew up with.

Computer games were also rare so that was another distraction that I had to do without. Today these games take up enormous blocks of time in children’s and adults’ lives that used to be taken up with interacting with other people and with the environment. Some folks will argue that these games can be played with multiple players, help decision making skills and also teach how to work as a team. I think that this is actually not the case because these games are not rooted in reality. They don’t help kids learn to relate to other people in the real world that surrounds them, nor do they really learn much of anything from gaming. I play computer games and can guarantee that what I’ve learned from them is simply how to escape from reality and put my thought process on hold. Games tend to rope folks in for more time than is really available, distracting them from building strong relationships and physical activity that used to be the norm.

The lack of computers did make finding information a slower process, but the quality of the information that was found tended to be more reliable and much easier to fact check. The library was one of the main areas where I went to gather information for my reports and to find reading material for the joy of reading. You had to know how to search the stacks and the card catalogue. Today tons of information is available just a few clicks away on the computer, however most of it really needs to be fact checked and it’s often difficult to determine the credibility of most web sites that offer “the truth.” Social media also has taken over many people’s lives to the extent that they rely on it for information which is all too often false. Despite having access to an incredible resource we have lost our ability to vet sources. Perhaps it was a skill that the populace was short on to begin with but was held in check by the type of media that was available in my childhood.

I spent my childhood running through backyards, playing football in fields with groups of friends, and stomping through the woods that I found while putting 2,500 miles on my bike each summer. I swam in the mornings with AAU swimming during the summers. Plunging into an unheated pool at eight a.m. to swim laps while the coach walked up and down the pool deck, I worked up my own heat, got my heart pumping and then road my bike back home. I delivered newspapers after swim practice in the winter with my hair freezing at the edges of my hat. There were so many books that called to me, model aircraft to build, music to listen to and practice. I didn’t have a video game to pretend to be a rockstar, I had a guitar that I learned to play and went to music school with. I had friends that I bonded with strapping on skates at the local ponds, and I still have a scar on my chin from the hockey stick I took to the face on one of those ponds. I swam and danced at the Youth Center with hundreds of other kids. I had a childhood and it was a good one.

I truly believe that if I had the technology available to me that our children have, I probably would have had a very different childhood. Instead of sneak reading books by flashlight I probably would have been mainlining video games in a corner, and while both are forms of escapism, reading does have a concrete benefit that gaming does not. I probably would not have been nearly as active as I was, which would have led to a weight problem sooner in my life. I have an addictive personality, which would have led to difficulties with the screen time just as it eventually led to a three pack a day habit with cigarettes that I eventually kicked. I’m glad that I didn’t grow up with the distractions that are present for the present generation, and while my childhood wasn’t without its own brands of difficulties I wouldn’t trade it for today’s conveniences.

Working through the Darkness: Depression and Performance

Sometimes performing is really difficult. We all have those nights where things don’t go quite the way we planned, equipment might glitch, or players might glitch and we turn in a performance that wasn’t up to our standards. Sometimes we’re sick or tired and feel physically challenged to get up there and do the deed, but we do it regardless, battle through it, as athletes would say, and do the best we can in the moment. However, for me the most difficult performances are the ones where I’m depressed, and by that I’m not discussing garden variety blues, what I’m referring to is chronic depression, the illness. Performing while I’m in the midst of another onset of the disease, mine is cyclical even when medicated, is extraordinarily difficult on many levels.

Depression sucks energy from my soul, creating both physical fatigue as well as spiritual fatigue and malaise. As a bass player one of my jobs is driving the music forward, and I’m good at it. I have to be on top of the rhythm, locked in with the drummer and providing the foundation for the music and stirring movement from the audience. This takes positive energy as much as it does skill, and when I’m in the midst of another round of depression energy is incredibly difficult to come by. In many ways when I’m depressed I feel like I’m moving through molasses. Everything slows down, and I spend most of the gig fighting that inner drag that threatens to undermine the entire purpose that a bass player has.

Depression also produces a sense of disconnectedness from your surroundings and the people you work with, let alone love. There’s a feeling of being out of step with everyone and everything. Response time slows down, attention span shortens to almost non-existent and communication becomes a chore. If you’re trying to sing back up this disconnectedness can sometimes result in struggling to physically remember the harmonies you’re supposed to hit, and sometimes you have to step back from the microphone because they’re just not there. Everything feels off and there’s a pervasive numbness that sets in. If you do manage to pull off a smoking hot set, chances are you won’t even notice between the inner numbness and disconnection.

It also creates a huge disparity between what I perceive and reality itself. When I’m depressed rule number one is that my inner critic cannot and should not be trusted. A decent performance will be perceived as a disaster, and an excellent one as just ok. I find myself basing my entire performance on one fraction of a tune that didn’t go as planned, and that one or two measures becomes the entire sum of the three hours of music. When I’m doing all right, then my take on the performance would be quite positive, but under the influence of my illness I simply can’t turn the perception around. I’ve been in situations where I’ve been depressed and despite that turned in an excellent performance. Afterwards I received compliments from audience members, including fellow musicians who wouldn’t give compliments unless they were earned, and the comments just roll off like rain from an umbrella. They register as someone saying something nice to me, and I smile and thank them, but the remarks don’t sink in and stay with me. My perception is that I was mediocre at best regardless of who tells me otherwise. There’s nothing like apologizing to your bandmates for what they thought was a good night for the group.

It’s also extraordinarily difficult to project a positive, fun-filled stage persona while suffering from a depressive episode. You have to constantly remind yourself to smile and overtly interact with the crowd despite feeling like you’re at a very close relative’s funeral. People are there to be entertained, and chances are they shelled out some money at the door just to get in. So the mask has to go on, and remain intact throughout the night, no matter what. Some folks will tell you that if you act happy, eventually you’ll be happy. Obviously they’ve never suffered from depression. Someone who suffers from depression might be smiling on the outside, and have donned the professional face of denial of the internal to get through what they’re supposed to do, but on the inside they’re dying.

Regardless of all of this, I’m thankful that I get to do what I love to do even when I feel like hiding from the world. I’m also thankful that despite when that few steps up onto the stage feels like an insurmountable mountain to climb, that I can still make those steps, and that honestly even on a bad night during my deeper periods of darkness I feel better while I’m playing than I do when I’m not. It’s always darker when I don’t have the opportunity to step out on stage and try to bring my internal world into a better balance. So I do it as often as I can, whenever I can, and where ever I can with as many people as I can. It is how I keep breathing.