In Pearlspective

Dear Friend, I love you. I need you to believe that. It's hard to know what love looks like any more so I need you to trust my love no matter what you hear. I also need you to tell me if  I can love you better. I love you but I'm not a mind reader and I'm not perfect - nobody is. Part of loving you means I care about your health. This virus going around right now - I don't want you to get it and I definitely don't want to give it to you! That's why I don't spend time with you when I'm sick. I love you but I'd rather miss you than make you sick. I guess a lot of folks can be contagious without being sick. After all, I never hung out with someone who was puking their guts out before I got the flu. I suppose that's true of any virus. But what can I do about that? Should I never see you again, even when I feel healthy, just in case I might have something contagious? Perpetual consensual loneliness isn't love, it's trauma. I can't do

I've never really told this story before, but I think it's time... As an entertainer, I've seen music touch many people, some who don't understand the language being sung, and I've even seen deaf people respond to the joy of music! But music touched me - physically , not just emotionally - long before I started sharing it with others. Yeah, I know. "Physically?? What does that even mean?" Well, it's like this: The harmonica changed my life - maybe even saved it. But I never wanted to play it or asked Santa to bring me one. In fact, about the time I started playing harmonica, it was maybe the last thing on my mind. Why? Because as an 8 year old kid, for no officially diagnosed reason, I had gone from outrunning teenage boys to being so weak that I couldn't walk, stand, or even sit up. I couldn't do much of anything, and honestly, I didn't even care anymore. I was giving up. One day my mom came home from the store, said "look

A s an entertainer, my job is to give people a reason to smile. Many of the songs I sing are to help my audience either forget their struggles or find new courage to face them, and any emotion I feel or convey from the stage is dictated by that principle. If only emotions were that predictable off stage. I grew up hearing cliches like "life is what you make it" and "happiness is a choice", and I guess I just assumed that was true. I still think it is - to a degree - but not every emotion can be called a choice. I know better than that now, and so does anyone else who's struggled with depression. I know what you're thinking: "What do you know about depression, Pearl? You're one of the funniest people I know. Do you even know how to not smile?" Well shucks, thanks for complimenting my sense of humor! But yes, I have actually experienced very smile-less depression, and more than once. I never woke up one day and said "I think I'll

Fear of change. Fear of failure. Doubt. Hesitation. Sound familiar? Maybe that's because I talked about this at the beginning of this year. If you missed my most-read blog post , may I suggest you go catch that before reading on? Photo by Nick Tiemeyer on Unsplash At the time I wrote that, I was facing a very pivotal decision in both my career and my personal life. I wanted so much to quit and run away, to find a place with no risk and little responsibility, but I couldn't. The decision had already been made. So as I wrote that slightly ambiguous blog post, I was trying desperately to silence my fears because I had to move forward with that decision, with or without them. I did move forward. Almost 9 months ago now, two of my siblings and I split off from a 14 year career with our family bluegrass band to forge a new path in our musical journey. It was frightening to effect a change that would affect both my family and my music in ways none of us could entirely