I remember the first time I heard an Anberlin song, and not realizing at that moment what that song would one day do to me. It was the summer of 2008, and I was looking at Junior's Myspace profile. He had been one of my best friends up until a few month before, when we'd gotten into an arguement and fell apart. On occasion I would go to his Myspace and browse. Not in a creepy, stalker-ish way! But for the simple fact that after months of not talking to him, I still couldn't get a handle on a life without his friendship, and I wanted to know how life was going for him. On this day, he had just added a new song to his profile. Curiously, I hit play. I was intrigued. The music player didn't have a name or artist, so I went to google and typed in "this is the correlation of salvation and love." I clicked on the first lyrics link and found it was by a band named Anberlin. I browsed through the words a bit, before closing out and exiting his profile.
After the event on the bus, I spent much of my free time listening to music in search of that feeling. I came to find I could at times find it when I heard songs of my past, songs I hadn't heard in years. So I went back to old CDs my sister had burned when I was in elementary. Being a kid, I had never really heard the music, but now 15, I found so much more in each song. The words had meaning and feeling, and the music! Oh the music! The guitar, the drums, the beat and the rhythm, it all felt so good.
I spent weeks listening to songs of the early 2000s, but after a few listens, I would lose the feeling. So I went in search of new music.
It was late Fall of 2008, and I remembered the song I had heard on Junior's MySpace. I looked it up, and every time it ended, I found myself hitting replay. With every play, I felt that euphoric peace spread throughout me. After about the fifth play, I stopped, scared that if I listened to it too much the feeling would fade. I browsed the suggested videos on the side, eager to listen to more of what this band had to offer. I spent over an hour, clicking on video after video, indulging in the sounds of Anberlin. On this night began my Anberlin addiction.
The following weeks I would spend hours listening to Anberlin, watching their YouTube videos, looking through their social websites, looking up their biography, and making up the six years of their history that I had missed. I created YouTube, Twitter, Blogger and who knows how many other accounts to keep up to date with everything Anberlin, all under the (what I thought was) clever name "Anberchik."
By the time Christmas came around, I had every Anberlin song downloaded in my iPod, and was slowly creating a new obsession with Anchor and Braille as well. The daydreams had also began by now. Every night I would lay in bed, mentally writing a story in which I would attend an Anberlin concert and by a stroke of luck be called on stage when the band asked for a fan to come on up and sing along with them. They would then be so impressed by my singing ability that they would ask me to do back up vocals for them, and I would become a part of the band and get to spend the rest of my life touring the world with Anberlin. Yea, I was slightly insane and irrational. Ha!
But little did I know that Anberlin would provide me with much more than a playful, mental escape at night. Thanks to them I discovered Warped Tour, and in the summer of 2009, I attended for the first time. The girl that walked into the Gorge that morning never came back out. What I found in there that day was the dream that would carry me through some of the hardest struggles on my life so far. Walking out of the Gorge that night, I knew that every career path I had considered was no longer good enough. My heart belonged on a stage, beating to the rhythm of music I had created.
I found myself in the Gorge that day, and I wanted nothing more than to build and develop the new, pure me.
Walking into my sophomore year of high school a month later, I was not afraid to show the new me. I showed up to school almost every day clad in tanks, band tees, and plaid shirts with skinny jeans and vans. I listened to music any chance I got, and drew music notes and Anberlin keys all over my papers and binders. There was even a week in which I spent my geometry period writing Anberlin lyrics on every inch of my math binder. I was eager to express what I now was. However, expression almost always comes with oppression, and unfortunately for me, I found it at home.
My parents failed to understand who I was. They couldn't understand why I listened to rock music, dressed the way I did, and liked things they thought were weird. At one point they protested to buying me any clothing that had black on it because they did not want to "encourage my emo lifestylfe." My sisters were more accepting, but still not very understanding. They didn't try to stop me from liking what I did, but they questioned it.
It was in school that I found complete acceptance. I made friends with people in band and those who had similar interests. My teachers didn't judge me, and at times even appreciated my uniqueness. In some ways, Anberlin and music helped me with my academics. Spending so much time listening to music, my writing had become something else; my mind now thought in poetics, and my English teacher praised my writing, saying I a had a real talent. In school, I found comfort, and in school I grew.
By junior year of high school, I had joined choir, was taking a creative writing class, and even joined the Leadership class, who were in charge of school assemblies and events, with hope that I could become the go to person for music during school activities. Classes went as great as I thought they would. I was set to make this the best year yet...unfortunately, it would only be the beginning of my downfall into what may have been depression.
That year, I regained contact and fell in love with Junior while I was in a relationship with someone else. But by the third week of September, Junior moved to California. He visited Washington three weeks later for his birthday weekend. I saw him that Friday, walking around the school grounds saying hi to people. I couldn't bring myself to go to him, so I walked away. By that night, I was two hours away in Spokane, attending my first Anberlin concert. I considered that my last good night, because the following Monday I saw my boyfriend for the first time in two months, and I no longer felt anything for him. I broke up with him in December.
The winter was a dark time for me. I was struggling more than I think I should have with Junior's absence. It seemed unfair that he should be taken from me just when everything was coming together again.
To be honest, I don't think I had ever been truly happy in my life. I spent most of my childhood thinking my sisters hated me. As I started growing, I gained low self esteem due to my mother never thinking I was skinny enough, and the fact that my sisters were insanely beautiful and I looked nothing like them. And it seemed like every time something good happened to me, it was snatched from my hands.
So here I was, dealing with the disapproval of my parents, a low self esteem that to this day has not gone, and the departure of what I truly believe to be my first love. I spent a lot of time alone in my room, and often I had sudden breakdowns in which I would curl up on the ground and cry. I found comfort in music, often spending hours singing along to my Anberlin favorites and pretending I was actually on a stage with them. I fell asleep each night to an Anberlin playlist, and daydreamed of the day I'd be in LA at the Musician's Institute working on my music career.
The summer before my senior year, I took the first step to doing something simply for myself. I was daring enough shave the side of my head, a style I had liked since I'd seen it on Sierra from VersaEmerge. My mother had never been so mean to me. She screamed for about an hour, insulting my style, personality, and taste in music. It broke my heart. It hurt that she simply could not understand that this was who I was. After she finished screaming, I went to my room and sat in a chair for the rest of the day, crying. That was the first time I tried to cut myself.
I didn't fully recover from that day, and when winter came around I fell again. I still ached for Junior, but I had cut contact with him in hope that I would forget him. It didn't help. I was alone, in a house that was no longer a home. On top of that, I could sense my high school career coming to an end, and that meant leaving the only place I could be me. Cutting became a habit that winter. Fortunately, that Spring I started reading the TWLOHA blog, an organization I had come to know thanks to Anberlin, and it helped pull me through. However, nothing helped more than knowing that soon I'd be out of this town and living the life I wanted.
I never made it to California. Due to some events that occurred during the last months of my senior year, I ended up in Boise State University in Idaho, pursuing a degree in English Education. I knew this choice would be more financially capable for my parents, and I reasoned that it would be a good choice for me since it would give me the opportunity to give other teenagers the comfort I found in school.
My first semester in college, I met a guy. I really thought we would go somewhere. Unfortunately, I simply could not give him what he wanted, he threw me aside like yesterday's garbage. I also made the mistake of making friends with the wrong people, and a few months in, I found myself surrounded by lies and betrayal. That winter was my darkest moment. I started cutting again, and deeper than ever; these scars did not fade. Some nights I would walk by the river, and at the bridge I would look down at the water, and wonder if I would survive a jump into the water. A few times, when I had a headache, I would take a painkiller...then I would look at the bottle and wonder if it contained to overdose. Never had I felt so alone and at the bottom.
When I returned for my second semester, I tried to pull through. I abandoned all contact with the people I had been associating with, and let myself have some time to myself. During this time, I finally got around to listening to the new Anberlin CD. It may seem strange, but the songs lifted me. I still found in them the strength and comfort they had given me in high school. Slowly, I started to get back up. I not only managed to make friends I loved, but they were able to pull me out of my depression. Along with that, I found Hussain. He, above everyone else, gave me full support and friendship. I went home for the summer, and when I came back for my second year, I couldn't deny that I was madly in love with this boy.
I didn't dare tell him; as an international student, we both knew one day he would return to his home country, and we both feared getting too close. But I couldn't help what I felt, and every second spent by his side was like a dream. During these months, I was able to attend my second Anberlin concert in Boise. At the end of it, I waited out back of the Knitting Factory in hopes of catching them for pictures and autographs. On his way out, Deon passed me, at which point I think he saw my Anberlin sweater because he smiled and said hi. I took the moment to ask for a picture, and ask if the rest of the band was coming out. "Uh, not sure. I'll ask," he replied. He went into the bus, and about a minute later Nate and Joey came out. They said hi to a few people next to me. Then they turned to look at me, looked at my sweater, and asked if I was the one that had talked to Deon. I had a minor heart attack, but replied with a simple "yes, I just wanted a picture." "cool!' they said and then stood on each side of me as a person nearby took our picture. They then turned and got back on the bus. I don't want to say they came out just to take a picture with me....but I like to think that. Stephen was the only one I didn't get a picture of that night. But it was a wonderful night, and I had Hussain waiting for me to get home, so he could hold me as I fell into a blissful sleep.
But as luck should have it, it was dream taken too soon. Due to family issues, Hussain was forced to return home that October. From the moment he told me he was leaving, I did not leave his side, until the moment he walked away at the airport two days later. From the airport, I went straight to class, then home, where I lied out on my balcony, listening nonstop to Anberlin's You Belong Here and Retrace. At around 5 pm, went to bed. I woke up at 10 pm, and cried for about an hour. Then I put my head phones on and listened to Anberlin until about 4 am.
About a month and a half later, I woke up to the news of Anberlin's break up. I couldn't believe it. I wanted comfort, and for the first time, listening to their music made me sadder.
Two weeks ago, I went to Los Angeles for the first time. It was supposed to be a family reunion, but the more of the city I saw, the more it stung. It was exactly what I thought it would be like, exactly how I dreamed of it. Sure, it was crowded, and hot, and dirty in comparison to Prosser and Boise...but it was perfect. It was city where my music dreams where supposed to come true. I realized I gave up so much more than a city when I chose to move to Boise. As I sat on the plane that would bring me back to Washington, my headphones played Anberlin into my ears, and I felt like I wanted to cry. I looked out to the city I never got, and I couldn't stop thinking of the dream I lost and how at the end of 2014, I would also lose the very thing that gave me strength and created that dream.
Anberlin came into my life just when I needed it. In the beginning, I fell in love with them because no matter how much I listened to them, I got an unwavering feeling of peace and euphoria from their music. As the years passed, they became the string that held me up and together through my struggles. And I cry now as I write this, because I know I will most likely never get to see them again. I would have wanted nothing more than to get to see them at Warped Tour because this was my dream performance. After the way Warped impacted my life, I always thought that the most perfect thing would be to see my favorite band in my favorite music setting. But now, due to lack of transportation and financial issues, I will be unable to make it. My initial plan was to handwrite my Anberlin story, and give it to them at Warped. I wanted this to be a very personal and special experience. It seems I'll never get my chance.
But to the band, if I should be lucky enough that you read this, I can only thank you. Thank for the words, the beats, the videos...your music. Thank you that you gave the world your talent. Directly or indirectly, you guys have guided my life and where I am today, and I'm proud to say that today I am stronger than I ever thought I could be. It will be strange to no longer sit around waiting for a new album after July, or rush to your website to look for tour dates. But I know that I will still turn to the music you leave behind for comfort, because I know no other way. You were the friend that stood my side and gave me words of comfort for so long; I only wish there was a way I could repay all that you have done for me. The words "dismantle.repair" are more than just a song title; they are the title to my Anberlin story, because every time I fell apart, Anberlin was there to get me through, to repair me, and I will be forever grateful. I love you all so much. Thank you for everything.
My parents failed to understand who I was. They couldn't understand why I listened to rock music, dressed the way I did, and liked things they thought were weird. At one point they protested to buying me any clothing that had black on it because they did not want to "encourage my emo lifestylfe." My sisters were more accepting, but still not very understanding. They didn't try to stop me from liking what I did, but they questioned it.
It was in school that I found complete acceptance. I made friends with people in band and those who had similar interests. My teachers didn't judge me, and at times even appreciated my uniqueness. In some ways, Anberlin and music helped me with my academics. Spending so much time listening to music, my writing had become something else; my mind now thought in poetics, and my English teacher praised my writing, saying I a had a real talent. In school, I found comfort, and in school I grew.
By junior year of high school, I had joined choir, was taking a creative writing class, and even joined the Leadership class, who were in charge of school assemblies and events, with hope that I could become the go to person for music during school activities. Classes went as great as I thought they would. I was set to make this the best year yet...unfortunately, it would only be the beginning of my downfall into what may have been depression.
That year, I regained contact and fell in love with Junior while I was in a relationship with someone else. But by the third week of September, Junior moved to California. He visited Washington three weeks later for his birthday weekend. I saw him that Friday, walking around the school grounds saying hi to people. I couldn't bring myself to go to him, so I walked away. By that night, I was two hours away in Spokane, attending my first Anberlin concert. I considered that my last good night, because the following Monday I saw my boyfriend for the first time in two months, and I no longer felt anything for him. I broke up with him in December.
The winter was a dark time for me. I was struggling more than I think I should have with Junior's absence. It seemed unfair that he should be taken from me just when everything was coming together again.
To be honest, I don't think I had ever been truly happy in my life. I spent most of my childhood thinking my sisters hated me. As I started growing, I gained low self esteem due to my mother never thinking I was skinny enough, and the fact that my sisters were insanely beautiful and I looked nothing like them. And it seemed like every time something good happened to me, it was snatched from my hands.
So here I was, dealing with the disapproval of my parents, a low self esteem that to this day has not gone, and the departure of what I truly believe to be my first love. I spent a lot of time alone in my room, and often I had sudden breakdowns in which I would curl up on the ground and cry. I found comfort in music, often spending hours singing along to my Anberlin favorites and pretending I was actually on a stage with them. I fell asleep each night to an Anberlin playlist, and daydreamed of the day I'd be in LA at the Musician's Institute working on my music career.
The summer before my senior year, I took the first step to doing something simply for myself. I was daring enough shave the side of my head, a style I had liked since I'd seen it on Sierra from VersaEmerge. My mother had never been so mean to me. She screamed for about an hour, insulting my style, personality, and taste in music. It broke my heart. It hurt that she simply could not understand that this was who I was. After she finished screaming, I went to my room and sat in a chair for the rest of the day, crying. That was the first time I tried to cut myself.
I didn't fully recover from that day, and when winter came around I fell again. I still ached for Junior, but I had cut contact with him in hope that I would forget him. It didn't help. I was alone, in a house that was no longer a home. On top of that, I could sense my high school career coming to an end, and that meant leaving the only place I could be me. Cutting became a habit that winter. Fortunately, that Spring I started reading the TWLOHA blog, an organization I had come to know thanks to Anberlin, and it helped pull me through. However, nothing helped more than knowing that soon I'd be out of this town and living the life I wanted.
I never made it to California. Due to some events that occurred during the last months of my senior year, I ended up in Boise State University in Idaho, pursuing a degree in English Education. I knew this choice would be more financially capable for my parents, and I reasoned that it would be a good choice for me since it would give me the opportunity to give other teenagers the comfort I found in school.
My first semester in college, I met a guy. I really thought we would go somewhere. Unfortunately, I simply could not give him what he wanted, he threw me aside like yesterday's garbage. I also made the mistake of making friends with the wrong people, and a few months in, I found myself surrounded by lies and betrayal. That winter was my darkest moment. I started cutting again, and deeper than ever; these scars did not fade. Some nights I would walk by the river, and at the bridge I would look down at the water, and wonder if I would survive a jump into the water. A few times, when I had a headache, I would take a painkiller...then I would look at the bottle and wonder if it contained to overdose. Never had I felt so alone and at the bottom.
When I returned for my second semester, I tried to pull through. I abandoned all contact with the people I had been associating with, and let myself have some time to myself. During this time, I finally got around to listening to the new Anberlin CD. It may seem strange, but the songs lifted me. I still found in them the strength and comfort they had given me in high school. Slowly, I started to get back up. I not only managed to make friends I loved, but they were able to pull me out of my depression. Along with that, I found Hussain. He, above everyone else, gave me full support and friendship. I went home for the summer, and when I came back for my second year, I couldn't deny that I was madly in love with this boy.
I didn't dare tell him; as an international student, we both knew one day he would return to his home country, and we both feared getting too close. But I couldn't help what I felt, and every second spent by his side was like a dream. During these months, I was able to attend my second Anberlin concert in Boise. At the end of it, I waited out back of the Knitting Factory in hopes of catching them for pictures and autographs. On his way out, Deon passed me, at which point I think he saw my Anberlin sweater because he smiled and said hi. I took the moment to ask for a picture, and ask if the rest of the band was coming out. "Uh, not sure. I'll ask," he replied. He went into the bus, and about a minute later Nate and Joey came out. They said hi to a few people next to me. Then they turned to look at me, looked at my sweater, and asked if I was the one that had talked to Deon. I had a minor heart attack, but replied with a simple "yes, I just wanted a picture." "cool!' they said and then stood on each side of me as a person nearby took our picture. They then turned and got back on the bus. I don't want to say they came out just to take a picture with me....but I like to think that. Stephen was the only one I didn't get a picture of that night. But it was a wonderful night, and I had Hussain waiting for me to get home, so he could hold me as I fell into a blissful sleep.
But as luck should have it, it was dream taken too soon. Due to family issues, Hussain was forced to return home that October. From the moment he told me he was leaving, I did not leave his side, until the moment he walked away at the airport two days later. From the airport, I went straight to class, then home, where I lied out on my balcony, listening nonstop to Anberlin's You Belong Here and Retrace. At around 5 pm, went to bed. I woke up at 10 pm, and cried for about an hour. Then I put my head phones on and listened to Anberlin until about 4 am.
About a month and a half later, I woke up to the news of Anberlin's break up. I couldn't believe it. I wanted comfort, and for the first time, listening to their music made me sadder.
Two weeks ago, I went to Los Angeles for the first time. It was supposed to be a family reunion, but the more of the city I saw, the more it stung. It was exactly what I thought it would be like, exactly how I dreamed of it. Sure, it was crowded, and hot, and dirty in comparison to Prosser and Boise...but it was perfect. It was city where my music dreams where supposed to come true. I realized I gave up so much more than a city when I chose to move to Boise. As I sat on the plane that would bring me back to Washington, my headphones played Anberlin into my ears, and I felt like I wanted to cry. I looked out to the city I never got, and I couldn't stop thinking of the dream I lost and how at the end of 2014, I would also lose the very thing that gave me strength and created that dream.
Anberlin came into my life just when I needed it. In the beginning, I fell in love with them because no matter how much I listened to them, I got an unwavering feeling of peace and euphoria from their music. As the years passed, they became the string that held me up and together through my struggles. And I cry now as I write this, because I know I will most likely never get to see them again. I would have wanted nothing more than to get to see them at Warped Tour because this was my dream performance. After the way Warped impacted my life, I always thought that the most perfect thing would be to see my favorite band in my favorite music setting. But now, due to lack of transportation and financial issues, I will be unable to make it. My initial plan was to handwrite my Anberlin story, and give it to them at Warped. I wanted this to be a very personal and special experience. It seems I'll never get my chance.
But to the band, if I should be lucky enough that you read this, I can only thank you. Thank for the words, the beats, the videos...your music. Thank you that you gave the world your talent. Directly or indirectly, you guys have guided my life and where I am today, and I'm proud to say that today I am stronger than I ever thought I could be. It will be strange to no longer sit around waiting for a new album after July, or rush to your website to look for tour dates. But I know that I will still turn to the music you leave behind for comfort, because I know no other way. You were the friend that stood my side and gave me words of comfort for so long; I only wish there was a way I could repay all that you have done for me. The words "dismantle.repair" are more than just a song title; they are the title to my Anberlin story, because every time I fell apart, Anberlin was there to get me through, to repair me, and I will be forever grateful. I love you all so much. Thank you for everything.
"Don't need no drug, you're my chemical...
Only you entwined can make this orphan feel at home."
Only you entwined can make this orphan feel at home."
