Permission To Be Undone

Holding Emotion Without Hiding It

A memory, a melody, and the emotions that come when no one’s watching.

I’ve never done karaoke. I used to sing in front of people a lot. One time, I sang solo on stage in front of 5,000 people (a verse of “God Bless the U.S.A.,” of all things). That part of my life—where I sang in front of people—is a good 15–20 years in the past. But no, I’ve never done karaoke.

Lately, though, I’ve been wondering what I would sing if I found myself in that TV/movie scenario where your friends pressure you into hopping on stage and taking the mic. So I’ve been on sort of a quest to find the perfect karaoke song to sing in that unlikely situation. Like a good Virgo, I feel like I need to be prepared.

A lot of people with singing experience (and even those who don’t) seem to go for the big number that shows off their range and power. I get it. But I’m thinking mine would be more of an intense, controlled, soulful ballad with an uplifting energy. Think “Fields of Gold” (Eva Cassidy’s version).

The problem—and this is part of the reason I stopped singing in front of people—is that if I feel a strong emotional connection to a song, those emotions will often surface while I’m singing and prevent me from doing the song justice. Sure, everyone is kind, but no one wants to see an emotional wreck singing on stage. That’s uncomfortable for everyone. I want to process my emotions out of the spotlight.

This morning, alone in the car, Phil Collins’s “A Groovy Kind of Love” came on. I was singing along with it, and after the first verse and chorus, I started thinking, This might be it. Good range for me. Intense. Powerful. Great vibe.

Second verse—same. Chorus—yes. Chord change—the intensity is building.

Instrumental bridge—a little long, but we can find something to do during that time.

Then the third verse hits—

When I’m feeling blue

All I have to do

Is take a look at you

Then I’m not so blue.

Okay, it repeats the first verse, but that’s not so bad. It’s a great line.

Then—

When I’m in your arms

Nothing seems to matter

My whole world could shatter

I don’t care.

And then, the tears came. Because that’s real. It’s powerful. It’s stated so simply and beautifully, but for me, it packed an emotional wallop.

I’m still looking for the right song. One that doesn’t undo me mid-verse. But maybe the real goal isn’t to find the perfect karaoke moment—maybe it’s learning to hold the emotion without having to hide it.

Maybe that’s what sacred masculinity actually looks like: not the absence of overwhelming feeling, but the courage to feel it fully without needing to perform invulnerability.