If you’ve ever been broken open by a song, then you already know this truth: music heals.
It doesn’t just sit in the background. It doesn’t just “sound nice.” Music has a way of cutting straight to the soul. It goes where words can’t. It speaks when our mouths stay closed.
And that’s why Step 2 of The Blurred Lines Between Us is all about letting music do the talking.
Because silence might have been handed down to us, but music? Music was always there to give us another language.
Why Music Heals:
There’s a reason people cry during a worship song. There’s a reason one melody can take you back to your grandmother’s house, your first heartbreak, or the moment you realized you weren’t alone.
Music carries memory. Music carries truth. Music carries prayers too deep for words.
For me, growing up in silence meant I didn’t always know how to say, “I’m hurt,” or “I need you.” But music filled the gap. Songs said the things my spirit couldn’t put into sentences. When my own voice felt small, a song became the echo I couldn’t make for myself.
And if I’m being real — that’s why this step is sacred. It’s not just about healing relationships. It’s about healing spirits that have been muted for too long.
Silence vs. Song:
See, silence feels heavy because it shuts us down. But music? Music opens us up.
Silence says: don’t feel, don’t speak, don’t need.
Music says: I see you, I feel you, I understand.
Silence makes the walls higher. Music makes the walls tremble.
Think about it: enslaved people on plantations weren’t allowed to speak freely. But they sang. Hymns. Work songs. Spirituals. Songs carried the pain, the hope, the resilience when words weren’t safe.
So when we talk about music in this journal, it’s not fluff. It’s not a “fun little activity.” It’s a reminder that music has always been a tool for survival, connection, and freedom.
A Taste of Step 2: The Playlist of Truth:
Inside the journal, Step 2 guides mothers and daughters to create an 8-song playlist that tells their story joy, hurt, truth, hope. But here on the blog, I just want to give you a little taste.
Mini Exercise:
Pick one song that feels like your truth today. Not your favorite. Not the one you think sounds good to someone else. The one that feels like what’s living in your chest right now.
- Play it.
- Write down what part of the song hits you the hardest. A lyric? A sound? The way it rises or falls?
- Ask yourself: if this song could speak for me, what would it say?
To show you how powerful this can be, let me give you my own example.
For me, that song was “Breaking Point” by Leon Thomas. I played it for weeks when all the hurt I was carrying from my mother leaving me came rushing to the surface. She was supposed to be my safe place in a cold world. But she wasn’t that.
The lyrics that hit me every single time were:
“Feel your heart is drifting, but you’re right there
I call you home but I might be alone
Oh and I can hear it in your tone
We’re in the danger zone
Way past the breaking point
Cause I can’t turn down the noise
You are my only choice
And we’re both just filling voids.”
That song didn’t just play — it mirrored me.
It layered itself into my story, because later he sings:
“They told me love was fragile
They told me love was breakable
I thought that I could handle, but that is still debatable
I thought that this was for me, but it’s feeling impossible.”
I would sit there with tears running down my face, asking God: Why is it so hard for her to show up for us like we show up for her? Why can’t she choose us?
That song became the star of the show. It named what I couldn’t. It held what I couldn’t carry out loud. This last conflict was the breaking point of our relationship.
That’s what music does. It gives language to pain when words choke. It becomes a mirror for the soul.
Why Music Bridges Mothers and Daughters
Here’s why this step matters in your healing journey:
- Music creates safety. You don’t have to explain every feeling — you can just let the song say it.
- Music creates memory. One playlist becomes a snapshot of who you were and what you were carrying together.
- Music creates connection. Even when you can’t agree on words, you can agree on rhythm.
I’ve seen families sit in silence for years, but a single song cracked open tears that words never could. That’s the power of music.
Hey, love.
Here’s the truth: silence may have shaped you, but music has always been trying to free you.
You don’t have to be a singer. You don’t have to play an instrument. You just have to listen. Because music is prayer in disguise. It’s the cry of the heart that can’t be silenced.
So here’s my challenge for you:
- Let one song tell your truth this week. Don’t explain it. Just play it.
- And if you’re ready, share that song with your mom/daughter. Let her step into your world for three minutes.
- When she shares hers, don’t analyze. Don’t pick it apart. Just listen like the song is her heart speaking.
Because sometimes three minutes of music can do what thirty years of silence couldn’t.
With rhythm and reverence,
Lily
Silence may have been our inheritance, but song can be our healing.
When words fail, music talks.
When silence closes in, music breaks it open.
When pain feels too heavy, music carries it for us.
This step isn’t just about making a playlist. It’s about remembering that your feelings deserve a voice — and sometimes that voice comes with a melody.
👉🏾 Want to go deeper? Step 2 of The Blurred Lines Between Us gives you the full playlist exercise and prompts to uncover the songs that carry your story.
[Grab your copy today and let music speak where silence has lived too long.]
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