For as long as I can remember, people have used words like happy and positive to describe me. I’m naturally quite private and find it difficult to articulate the part of my life that always ends badly – romance.

In recent years, I’ve been navigating a heartbreak that changed me and my sunny outlook to the core. When I found myself apart from someone that I thought would be in my life forever, no amount of counselling, time with friends, career highs or soul-searching was helping me to overcome the grief.

The make-up artist Donni Davy kept me massively distracted at the peak of my hurt. I was mesmerised with her colourful Euphoria make-up looks and loved recreating them. And, in April, Davy turned a girl I’d never heard of into a spectacular, embellished pink butterfly at Coachella. That girl was Chappell Roan, and it was love at first sight.

Discovering Roan this spring was transformative for me – I may as well be that pink butterfly. Listening to album The Rise And Fall Of A Midwest Princess day in and day out has led me to completely reframe how I feel about myself and that loss, and for the first time in seven years I’m truly optimistic about my future. 

They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Roan has taken me on a journey through all of them and somehow out the other side to a place of accepting what was simply not meant to be.

Roan’s music is so much fun, she awoke a version of myself that I haven’t experienced since my teens. Playing her empowering lyrics on repeat has given me a greater sense of confidence in myself. Her clothes and make-up remind me of the me before I was heartbroken, a much more carefree and trusting person, and she’s enabled me to see the joy in the world again.

This culminated in one of the most special experiences of my life. In September, I got the train to her Manchester gig. I didn’t have a ticket; I simply went with a vision of interviewing fans in the queue. Hours later, I found myself with an ‘access all areas’ pass thanks to meeting my school friend Kieran on the train (he was opening for her as his drag persona, Donna Trump). Roan chatted to us backstage; she was as kind and generous as I had hoped, and I watched the show from the wings. Screaming Casual’s “you can go to hell” with a crowd full of mermaids was a truly cathartic moment for me, and one that put the nail in the coffin of my sadness. 

“There is no doubt that music has an incredible healing power” explains integrative psychotherapist Luisa Savoia. “Many psychotherapists work with breath and sound exercises, as these are fantastic ways to regulate our bodies, particularly when faced with a trauma response.

“Music is also a creative endeavour and connects us to our deep feelings, whether we play or listen to it,” she tells me. “Like any art form, music unites us with others and the wider world. It reminds us of our collective experiences, allowing us to feel less alone.”

Feeling less alone was a desire that came through in droves when I asked my friends for their thoughts on the healing power of music. “Growing up as a black, gay kid in a Christian household, I always felt this pull between who I was and who I was supposed to be,” explained Naaman. “At 18, I found Laura Marling’s album I Speak Because I Can, and it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. Her music understood everything I couldn’t say out loud, about questioning expectations, finding yourself and holding onto hope even when things feel messy.” 

A soundtrack to the coming-of-age years was also important to Thomas Duke, founder of the hugely popular Stepping Through Film page on Instagram. “When I hear anything from the Love, Simon soundtrack, it makes me feel so warm and fuzzy! Primarily Alfie’s Song and Wild Heart. It takes me back to the time when I was figuring out who I was, my sexuality, what I wanted in life, who I wanted to be, and those songs offer such vibrancy and warmth.” 

It was clear that music had underpinned lots of our formative experiences. “Listening to music when we’re going through a tough time can bring immense satisfaction, as we can use it to explore our grief and sadness, express our anger or find comfort and relief,” explains Savoia.

After talking to Naaman and Duke, I put an open call on Instagram for stories for people to tell me about their favourite music and what it had helped them overcome. I was moved to tears by some of the testimonies, including from a woman called Ellie who got in touch with me. “I have two beautiful little boys but I’ve also experienced three pregnancy losses which were traumatic, heartbreaking and so isolating,” she shared. “Taylor Swift’s song Bigger Than the Whole Sky really resonated with me. It encapsulated a lot of my emotions of that process, wondering if I could have done something differently, and how everything felt so bleak. Even though my time with those babies was small in the grand scheme of life, I have so many thoughts around who they would have been. Pregnancy loss still feels like such a taboo. Hearing this song, I felt my experience was heard, when ordinarily it’s met with silence.”

Many more people shared stories of how music helped them to give words to unspeakable grief. “In 2022, I had a stillbirth at 39 weeks. I was devastated and broken beyond belief. Adele was the singer that pulled me through, especially her album 30,” shared Rebecca. “I was lucky enough to get tickets for her set at BST Hyde Park and cried throughout. Hearing her voice live was something I’ll never forget. The icing on the cake was finding out the next week that I was pregnant with my rainbow baby, who was born in February 2023. When I play Adele now, my little one smiles as if she recognises the beat.”

With grief at the heart of so many stories, I wondered what Cariad Lloyd – author and host of the immensely moving Griefcast – would make of this connection. “Music plays a huge part in allowing people to feel grief,” she agreed. “You can look at the success of Jeff Buckley and Hallelujah to see how much people need music to express their grief at times.”  

If Roan got me through my heartbreak, Haim kept me company throughout it. Their names came up time and time again in my messages, with almost medicinal impact. And, it’s not only me that shares a passion for the music that the trio of sisters create. “My first MRI was scary, but the technician put Haim’s discography on for me and it was so comforting,” KJ tells me. “There are a few instances of me waking up from anaesthesia and talking to the nurses about Haim!” The Haim sisters know how to make us all feel a part of their family, and I was touched by another story sent to me by Eleanor. She said: “I was struggling with depression and was barely attending school due to anxiety. After discovering Haim, I got back into piano, taught myself guitar, and began learning bass inspired by Este, who I look up to so much. It gave me a sense of purpose.”

There have been a handful of people in my lifetime who have inspired me in a powerful way, and artist Alex Box is one of them. I wanted to hear her take on my belief that music has healing powers. “I do always focus on transformation and hope, but nothing prepares you for a loved one being close to death or dying,” she told me. “My mum is extraordinarily rare and lucky, surviving pancreatic cancer. From the time she was diagnosed, to her life-saving operation and recovery, focusing solely on the powerful healing recovery chant Ra Ma Da Sa got me through the darkest moments. As a family we wrote it, we said it under our breath, and when I was broken apart by fear I listened to the Snatam Kaur version over and over.”

And then there were those in the midst of their struggles. “I am currently battling breast cancer,” confided Kate. “I play Warrior by Avril Lavigne every morning on my walks up and down my street, and I’m Alive by Celine Dion. The music really helps as I look at my surroundings and keep telling myself I can do it.”

In reading these stories, I felt more connected than ever, and was glad I had chosen to share my own vulnerability. After the most difficult few years of my life, Roan has helped me to feel like the old me. I’ve spent a long time trying to make the best of things despite feeling disillusioned by the people in the world, but she has given me something I haven’t had in years – hope. At 35 years old, I feel like a little girl again, excited for adventures to come and hopeful about the world around me. 

Images: Getty