A blog post inspired by a recent episode of REALTALK with Emma G: Mental Health Sounds Like This featuring singer-songwriter and founder Eli Lev. Listen on Spotify, Apple podcasts, Amazon Podcasts
I’ve always maintained that we are not just the product of our past — but we are the authors [and songwriters] of our future. However, in order to write a new story: we do first need to acknowledge the stories we’ve inherited.
Whether through bloodlines, culture, trauma, or tradition, our families, communities, and social groups pass on narratives. Some are empowering. Others are heavy. Sometimes, those narratives live in our bones like songs we didn’t choose to memorize—songs of trauma, neglect, abuse, anxiety, and silence. And yet, the truth is: even if we come from a single parent family, or a household under one roof that felt anything but safe, we can still choose what to carry forward.
In last week’s episode of REAL TALK with Eli Lev, we explored the difference between honoring where we come from… and being defined by it. Eli shared how his cultural lineage inspired his latest song “Where We Come From,” and Ra and I reflected on how Indigenous traditions like the Māori pepeha or Fijian symbolic ancestry (where your bird, tree, and fish reveal your roots and connections to others) give us a starting point for deeper understanding — but not the full blueprint.
Because identity isn’t fixed. Our past doesn’t control our present. And trauma — even from adverse childhood experiences like domestic violence, divorce, neglect, or the long shadow of mental illness — doesn’t get the final word. Especially when we use creativity to process and reframe it.
My song “Behind Her Eyes” is a perfect example. I wrote it as a form of honoring my past [and my inner child]. It honors my childhood, teenage years, and some of the traumatic grief I’ve endured as a result of abuse, but it also reminds me — and hopefully others — that we can be strong because of what we’ve survived, not in spite of it. It’s about mental health, yes, but more than that: it’s about choosing life.
“Puppet” honors the complex parts of me—the roles I’ve played to survive, the characters I’ve embodied to be accepted, and the mask I’ve worn for the sake of relationships, society, or even safety. Many kids grow up in environments where you learn to shapeshift to stay safe. I was one of them. But healing means recognizing that all those parts still belong. That our music, much like our lives, doesn’t have to follow a linear storyline. It can be a layered, multi-genre album that reflects our real development.
Listen to the song here on YouTube.
And then there’s “I Am.” It’s a bold, affirming anthem that declares: I get to write my story. I get to reclaim my narrative. No more being limited by other people’s labels, or outdated definitions of what a traditional family looks like, or how trauma should be expressed. It’s my line to rewrite. My voice to use. And yours too.
So how do we begin the process of rewriting our future — especially when grief, childhood trauma, or mental health challenges make it feel impossible?
Here are a few reflective tools to help you stay connected to your growth and healing:
5 Ways to Practice Rewriting Your Future
1. Rewrite the Lyrics of Your Life
Take a piece of writing — journal entry, memory, or even a phrase you’ve said about yourself—and turn it into a song or poem. This is what I do with my clients, like Sydney, who wrote “Intrusive Thoughts.” It gave her a form to process her experiences through music, not just therapy. It changed her relationship with her past.
2. Identify the Narratives You’ve Inherited
What were you taught about love? Conflict? Worth? Identify where those beliefs came from. Were they spoken by your parents, implied by your culture, reinforced by abuse or silence? Naming those lines helps you rewrite them.
3. Create a “Future Self” Playlist
Make a playlist of songs that reflect who you want to be—your ideal self as a caregiver, friend, artist, spouse, or adult. This will help you anchor your growth not in fear or risk, but in joy, clarity, and self-expression.
4. Practice Inner Child Communication
Sit down and write a letter to your younger self. Refer to her by name. Tell her what she needed to hear. This exercise is often used in trauma-informed therapy and child psychiatry to help us feel safe in our own skin again.
5. Use “I Am” Affirmations — Out Loud
Daily affirmations aren’t woo. They’re neural rewiring. “I Am” was born from this practice. Speak them in the mirror. Write them in your journal. Sing them into your voice notes. This is how we stay connected to our development.
It’s not easy. Especially in recent years, where the mental health crisis has collided with an overwhelmed healthcare system, overburdened support services, and societal shame around mental illness and emotional pain.
But the truth is: healing happens when we choose to do things differently. When we say, “I come from this, but I choose that.” When we honor our mothers, our fathers, our relatives—and still give ourselves permission to be more.
Let’s not be limited by past definitions of family, health, or identity. Whether you were raised under one roof or in a high risk environment, your future doesn’t have to mirror your past. With music. With movement. With mindset. With love.
Let’s write new stories. Let’s sing new songs. Let’s be the generation that turns trauma into transformation.
Click here to book a connection call, and learn more about how music can help you reconnect to your voice, your story, and write your healing journey.
Because we’re not just survivors. We’re songwriters. And our albums? They are absolutely worth listening to.
