Group therapy in a blog.
Wise Up
It’s hard to listen to. You don’ tknow whether it’s words or melody that affect you on this kind of basic molecular level. But whatever the cause, the resultant helplessness resonates in your ears as you hear the vocal desperation, and the lyrics afflict you like labor.
It’s hard to listen to. But sometimes, viscerally and inexplicably, it provides you with the blueprint for, or at least, nudges you toward, recovery.
It’s hard to listen to. And you can’t explain it. But sometimes, it helps.
“Wise Up”
by Aimee Mann
It’s not what you thought
When you first began it
You got what you want
Now you can hardly stand it though
By now you know it’s not
Going to stop
It’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
You’re sure there’s a cure
And you have finally found it
You think one drink
will shrink you ’til
you’re underground and living down
But it’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
Prepare a list of what you need
Before you sign away the deed
‘Cause it’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
It’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
No it’s not going to stop
‘Til you wise up
Now it’s not going to stop
So just give up…
Damn, that’s good. The faint hope clause guy in me is wondering if the last “give up” could be interpreted as “give in”. Suggesting that if you accept your feelings as truth (instead of situational myopia) that this costructed fabric of unreality might be exsistant enough to sustain you.
But I know that’s just not true. Giving up implies starting over (to me). I’ve listened to this song a bunch of times, but never really understood it. I’ve always just let its warm comforting tones soothe my pain. Now I have a bit more to consider.
Thanks,
Rye