Panic and My Missing Outlet.
"I WANT TO PLAY DRUMS! I WANT TO PLAY DRUMS!!"
This is exactly what I screamed at the top of my lungs while driving to work this morning, tears in my eyes, crying hysterically. I went to bed with an anxious sensation in my chest after I lost several personal training sessions before the week even began. At some point, after I initially woke up, I dreamt that I somehow broke my favorite guitar at the headstock, leaving me crying loudly in the dream itself.
It was a song I was listening to this morning with a very Beatles-like groove that triggered me to scream out the aforementioned statement. The Beatles made me want to play drums again after five years of not doing it when I was a kid. I packed my beautiful, Tama Rockstar Custom drum set away when I left home in 2015, as the condo I was sharing with my then-girlfriend had no space for it. That was more than eight years ago now, and it's still in my mother's attic today. My current apartment is on the second floor of a house. Yes, I have storage for it in my current place, but that's about it.
My mom once tried to convince me to sell it or even donate it, but I want to play it again. Call me stubborn, but I'm in a situation now where I desperately need my original physical outlet. I'll never claim to have been a great drummer, but I was very good. Nothing gave me more of a rush than sitting behind some toms, a snare, and several cymbals, not even playing guitar, which I also excelled at.
I'm trying on and off to find a rehearsal studio I can rent out monthly so I can move my drums in there. I'd be able to go in any time I please and channel my anger, stress, and frustrations out of my kit one more time. I'd use the opportunity to teach myself proper technique, something I never really possessed. Maybe I'll do what I wanted to do years ago and record some raw, homemade demos. I tried to do that in 2014 until I discovered my 4-track tape recorder was missing. It was probably stolen.
There's a ton of anger building up every day, with no signs of slowing down. I'm awaiting word from a clinic to see if they accept my new insurance so I can reconnect with my old counselor. But it probably wouldn't be enough. I need that physical expression again, as I just feel it pulling at my heart. I wish I knew what to do.
This is exactly what I screamed at the top of my lungs while driving to work this morning, tears in my eyes, crying hysterically. I went to bed with an anxious sensation in my chest after I lost several personal training sessions before the week even began. At some point, after I initially woke up, I dreamt that I somehow broke my favorite guitar at the headstock, leaving me crying loudly in the dream itself.
It was a song I was listening to this morning with a very Beatles-like groove that triggered me to scream out the aforementioned statement. The Beatles made me want to play drums again after five years of not doing it when I was a kid. I packed my beautiful, Tama Rockstar Custom drum set away when I left home in 2015, as the condo I was sharing with my then-girlfriend had no space for it. That was more than eight years ago now, and it's still in my mother's attic today. My current apartment is on the second floor of a house. Yes, I have storage for it in my current place, but that's about it.
My mom once tried to convince me to sell it or even donate it, but I want to play it again. Call me stubborn, but I'm in a situation now where I desperately need my original physical outlet. I'll never claim to have been a great drummer, but I was very good. Nothing gave me more of a rush than sitting behind some toms, a snare, and several cymbals, not even playing guitar, which I also excelled at.
I'm trying on and off to find a rehearsal studio I can rent out monthly so I can move my drums in there. I'd be able to go in any time I please and channel my anger, stress, and frustrations out of my kit one more time. I'd use the opportunity to teach myself proper technique, something I never really possessed. Maybe I'll do what I wanted to do years ago and record some raw, homemade demos. I tried to do that in 2014 until I discovered my 4-track tape recorder was missing. It was probably stolen.
There's a ton of anger building up every day, with no signs of slowing down. I'm awaiting word from a clinic to see if they accept my new insurance so I can reconnect with my old counselor. But it probably wouldn't be enough. I need that physical expression again, as I just feel it pulling at my heart. I wish I knew what to do.
36-40, M