Today, 1 February 2024, is #TimeToTalkDay. It’s a campaign by the mental health charity Mind, to encourage talking about our struggles, our reactions, and how we’re really feeling. In the spirit of it being “time to talk”, I’ve decided to share how singing, especially with Vivamus, has helped my own mental health.

A mental health journey

I am beyond grateful to say that today, I’m a very happy person. I’m extraordinarily lucky: I’m blessed with an incredible family, world-class friends, a wonderful and supportive partner, and thriving creative pursuits.

Alright, alright, that’s enough of my gushing. The thing is, it wasn’t always this way.

As a teenager and into my twenties, I was very unhappy. Every small thing that happened felt like the end of the world, and I was crying more often than not. Sure, there were happy moments, moments I wouldn’t trade for anything, but they felt like punctuation in the ongoing darkness. I barely slept, and my tired mind was simultaneously drained and frenzied.

There are all sorts of social, psychological and circumstantial reasons for my experience. One recurring theme for me, though, was a sense of never quite belonging.

The odd one out?

Overall, despite my poor mental health, I loved my university. I loved my course, I loved the town, I loved my friends. But it was sometimes jarring to be in a place where I was one of very few working class, non-white people.

Most of the time, it didn’t matter too much. But in my first week as a fresher, I auditioned to join the choir. I’d successfully auditioned for top youth choruses in my teens, and had managed to score a distinction in ABRSM’s grade 8 singing qualification after my school paid to get me a few free singing lessons. I may sound cocky about my abilities, but I promise I wasn’t! Among other things, I knew my sight-singing was (and is) extremely weak. But I wanted to give it a shot. Because I love singing, and always have.

When I failed the audition, I asked the choir director for feedback. Was it my poor sight-singing? “No.” Was it a concern that my timbre might fail to blend? “No.” Was there some other problem with my singing? “No. I just don’t want you in my choir.”

Months later, a successful auditionee told me the choir director, quite unabashedly, didn’t want people of a darker skin in the choir. Too visually distracting. Not of the right background. An odd one out. It wasn’t about my timbre failing to blend; apparently I, as an entire person, would fail to blend. And that was why I was rejected.

I didn’t stop singing. I couldn’t. It was one of the few constant, reliable sources of joy in my life at that time, and I sang at open mic nights and every other opportunity I got. But the experience was a real blow for my love of choral singing. It exacerbated my feeling that I didn’t belong anywhere. I didn’t sing in a choir again for ten years.

Picking up where I left off

I’m forever grateful to my good friend for recommending I try out Vivamus, despite my ten-year gap in choral singing experience. Thanks to her encouraging me, I was able to return to a world I’d long since said goodbye to, but deep down had missed all the while.

That being said, my first rehearsal try-out was frankly terrifying. Everyone was merrily singing 11-part harmony for Rachmaninoff’s All-Night Vigil, while I was squinting at the music trying to work out which line I was reading. Everyone seemed so confident about the complex music, it was pretty intimidating.

But it was magnificent, too. It was intoxicating, stirring up skills I hadn’t used for a decade. As the music became increasingly familiar, and my confidence grew, by the end I was singing out alongside everyone else. On the way to the post-rehearsal pub, fellow singers were enthusiastic and encouraging.

Ten years had passed without singing in a choir. Now I’d relived just how magical it is, I knew I couldn’t give it up again – not without first giving it my all.

After a few try-out sessions, I auditioned. Our choir director Rufus and the supporting choir singer listened compassionately to my story (and listened even more compassionately as I, predictably, messed up my sight-singing). It was clear from the very start that how I look and where I come from weren’t going to be judged this time. Vivamus doesn’t fear diversity, and fundamentally holds up musicality and singing talent as the sole criteria for joining. I passed the audition, and I’ve never looked back.

Choral singing and mental health

What has this got to do with #TimeToTalkDay?

Overcoming my mental health struggles and feelings of isolation took a lot of different steps, and many were nothing to do with music. But during all my dark times, singing was a bright point for me. When I sang, I was uplifted, overcome by the sheer magnitude of feeling. It was freeing, and healing. It expressed my turmoil in a way which felt cathartic. I’m not the only one to be healed by music, either – far from it. This music and mental health case study from Mind is just one of countless stories of how music has helped people who are feeling low.

As for choral singing, studies have shown there are specific psychological benefits to being in a choir. This article by a psychology researcher at Oxford University, “Choir singing improves health, happiness – and is the perfect icebreaker“, describes these benefits in detail. Choral singing allows for harmony in more ways than one, including a sense of community, a physical workout, and psychological euphoria. And this is true for everybody, no matter where you’re from or what you look like.

Now I’m in a much happier place in life, pursuing activities and experiences which I enjoy, I know singing with Vivamus does a great deal to keep me feeling positive and grounded. Even when I have to drag myself through the cold winter streets for rehearsal, I always leave feeling lighter and brighter. Vivamus embraces my diversity, and it gives me an opportunity to connect with others as we sing our hearts out. I no longer feel like the odd one out; like with every other singer, my differences are a strength, not a weakness. I’m glad to be the person I am, and I’m glad for the network I have in Vivamus.

I’m grateful to Mind for championing #TimeToTalkDay, a chance for us all to discuss our experiences openly and honestly. Of course, to really reduce stigma and promote positivity, this day is just the beginning. Every single day is a time to talk – and, I feel, a time to sing.

Find out more about Vivamus.

Post written by Swéta Rana.