A Mental Health Post Referencing Lady Gaga Songs? Yup.

I’d rather be dry,

But at least I’m alive—

Rain on me,

Rain on me…

Pre-2020 Miranda was doing extremely “well” on her mental health journey. She was thriving, finally settling into a routine in a new city, successfully transitioning out of therapy, in a career she loved and happy (if young) marriage. Then? January 2020 rolled around.

Things seemed normal at first. News started flying that a strange, novel illness had appeared in Asia. Mine and Andrew’s birthdays came and passed, and then things got real (and fast).

The last day I went to work like I normally would was March 12th, 2020. I haven’t been back since. Everything has become work from home, fear for your job security (as millions file for unemployment weekly), and try to keep yourself and your family safe. Life went from thrive-mode to survive-mode overnight, and suddenly, I wasn’t okay anymore.

Mental illness has always been a significant obstacle in my life. Now is no different— as a pandemic rages and my life has been upended (acting opportunities suddenly dashed, my office space suddenly non-existent, my primarily social hobbies indefinitely on hold), I’ve felt a significant loss of identity throughout the course of 2020, and that has resulted in a good amount of emotional turmoil.

(I’ll add that I’m extremely thankful, grateful, and fortunate to have not lost anyone I know personally from COVID-19. The pain I’m sure many people are feeling due to loss of a loved one is beyond what I can imagine. This is not to detract from that; just to add a discussion about mental health to the ongoing pandemic conversation.)

My first reaction was to talk to family— my husband, my mother and father, my closest friends who are more like family to me. My husband and I went home to West Virginia in May (when it seemed more safe to do so), which helped immensely. Just being able to hug my mother made a huge difference in my pandemic outlook, honestly. However, the one thing I often turn to in times of trouble and turmoil— dancing like no one is watching at a festival or show with a group of my closest friends (my favorite form of therapy)— was “cancelled” until further notice.

Andrew and I at Bunbury Festival, 2017. An oldie but a goodie!

So, what do you do then? You can’t dance in a crowd of thousands. You can’t even be near people that don’t live in the same household as you. You can’t participate in your favorite, funky forms of therapeutic movement and celebration…

So you crank up the music in your own car, sing at the top of your lungs, and car-dance like no one is watching.

Lady Gaga’s sixth album, Chromatica, dropped at the perfect time (as do all of her albums, truly). The first time I heard “Rain on Me,” a leading single from the album featuring Ariana Grande, my heart sang with joy. This explained exactly how I’d been feeling not only lately, but over the weeks and months and years of my life that I’d been dealing with mental illness. The lyrics, “I’d rather be dry, but at least I’m alive— rain on me, rain on me,” sang directly to my soul. I understand if that sounds incredibly corny, but that’s honestly how it feels at times— things could be better, I’d rather be “dry”, but hell, at least I’m “alive”. So bring on the rain.

Driving down the road blaring Gaga songs (among many other artists’ magnum opus) is nothign new to me. Remember her album Joanne? Another absolute triumph in pop-music, IMHO. That album also offers a lovely, empowering track titled “Diamond Heart,” which a gal from West Virginia (like me) can appreciate for its country-pop coarseness and raw lyrical content. Gaga sings, “Young, wild American— come on, baby, do you have a girlfriend? Rain on me a million; I’m not flawless, but, I’ve got a diamond heart…”

I’d like to think of myself that way. I’m not flawless— this mental illness, among all the other flaws that make me and everyone else “human”, can make me feel so ironically complete in my brokenness at times— but I’ve got a diamond heart. I try to be the best person I can be. I try to stay in constant motion, always moving forward. I cut through the rough and tumble and persevere, no matter what my brain, my life, or any other internal-or-external circumstances may bring my way.

So, even though I’m not “okay” right now, I will be. We will be.

Rain. On. Me.