How music can help us process difficult emotions

Have you ever found yourself playing the same song over and over again, wondering why you can’t quite bring yourself to listen to anything else?

As a psychotherapist, I’ve lost count of the number of times clients have mentioned “that one song” they keep returning to, or the one they simply can’t bear to hear ever again after a relationship ends, someone they love dies, or life suddenly feels overwhelming. They often apologise for it.

“I know it’s probably not helping.”

“I can’t stop listening to it.”

“Every time it comes on, I cry.”

But I don’t think it’s strange at all. In fact, it always makes me curious. Because I’ve done exactly the same thing.

There’s a saying that when we’re happy, we hear the music, but when we’re hurting, we begin to hear the lyrics. Whether that’s always true is difficult to know, but it’s certainly something many of my clients recognise, and if I’m honest, I recognise it too.

One piece of research particularly caught my attention. It explored why many of us choose sad music when we’re feeling low. Interestingly, the research suggests we’re not trying to make ourselves feel worse. Instead, we’re often looking for comfort, understanding, and a way to process emotions that are difficult to put into words.

If you notice yourself turning to certain songs when you're struggling, you might gently experiment with using music intentionally. For example, creating playlists to match your different moods can help you better understand what you need in the moment. You could also try listening to a song and then jotting down a few thoughts about the memories or feelings it brings up. This kind of simple curiosity can open up new ways of supporting yourself through hard times.

Sometimes a song seems to understand us before we understand ourselves.

Why music reaches us differently

Unlike a conversation, music doesn’t ask us to explain ourselves.

A lyric can capture emotions we’ve struggled to describe for weeks, months or even years. A melody can transport us back to a particular moment before we’ve had a chance to think. One line can leave us in tears without us fully understanding why.

Music also connects strongly with memory. Most of us can remember exactly where we were when we first heard certain songs. They become woven into our lives, attached to people, places and emotions.

When we’re going through a difficult period, listening to a song repeatedly isn’t necessarily about holding on to sadness. Sometimes it’s our mind’s way of saying, “This is exactly how I feel.”

Perhaps that’s one of the reasons music can be so powerful. It can make us feel understood before we’re ready to explain ourselves to anyone else.

My own soundtrack

I experienced this myself during one of the most difficult periods of my life. 

In the early days, Kelly Clarkson’s Because of You became my companion. I’d often play it in the car after work. Before I knew it, I was crying so hard I’d have to pull over because I couldn’t see properly to drive. I’d sit there until I could catch my breath, wipe away the tears, look in the mirror and drive home as though nothing had happened.

If you’d seen me walk through the front door, you probably wouldn’t have known. But I knew. Looking back, that little space inside my car became one of the only places where I allowed myself to fall apart.

Isn’t it extraordinary how many of us become experts at looking as though we’re coping? I often think about how many people are doing exactly the same thing every day. Sitting in cars. Standing in the shower. Walking the dog. Waiting until everyone else has gone to bed. Finding the one place where it finally feels safe enough to let the tears come.

As time went on, another Kelly Clarkson song found its way into my playlist: Behind These Hazel Eyes. It captured the exhaustion of trying to look as though everything was fine while quietly carrying heartbreak inside.

I know now that I wasn’t just listening to music. I was listening to myself. Then something happened so quietly that I almost missed it.

I was still listening to Kelly Clarkson. But I wasn’t listening to the same songs anymore. One day, without ever making a conscious decision, I realised I was playing Breakaway. That simple change stopped me in my tracks when I looked back. The artist hadn’t changed. The songs had. And somewhere along the way, so had I.

I hadn’t suddenly become “better”. Life hadn’t magically fallen into place. But little by little, without even realising it, hope had quietly started to replace survival. I often wonder how many people experience something similar without noticing. Perhaps our playlists tell the story of our healing before we’re able to.

What I’ve noticed as a therapist

Since qualifying as a psychotherapist, I’ve become fascinated by the small things people mention almost in passing.

One client tells me they can’t stop listening to one particular song. Another says they haven’t been able to listen to a favourite artist since losing someone they love. Someone else tells me they’ve unexpectedly rediscovered music they haven’t listened to for years.

None of these things is diagnostic, of course, but they often open the door to conversations about grief, identity, hope and change.

One of the things therapy often offers is permission. Permission to feel angry, sad, relieved, frightened or hopeful without judging yourself for any of it. Music can sometimes offer something similar.

It doesn’t tell us how we should feel. It simply meets us where we are. Perhaps that’s why so many of us instinctively reach for it during life’s hardest moments. Sometimes a playlist can tell us something we’re not yet ready to say out loud.

Becoming curious about your own soundtrack

If you’re going through a difficult period in your life, perhaps take a moment to become curious about the music you’re listening to.

Ask yourself:

• Which song do I keep returning to?
• What is it saying that I find so comforting?
• Does it remind me of a person, a place or a feeling?
• Has my playlist changed over the last few months?
• If it has, what might that say about where I am now?

There are no right or wrong answers. This isn’t about analysing every lyric or forcing yourself to listen to happier music. Music therapy is simply about noticing.

Sometimes curiosity is the first step towards understanding ourselves a little better. In the same way, other creative supports, such as drawing, writing, or movement, can help us process emotions when words are hard to find. Exploring different forms of creativity can open up new paths to self-understanding and support.

Music doesn’t heal us, but it can walk alongside us

Music won’t take away grief. It won’t repair a broken relationship. It won’t erase painful memories. What it can do is help us feel less alone while we find our own words.

Sometimes it gives us permission to cry when we’ve been trying so hard to stay strong. Sometimes it reminds us of who we used to be. And sometimes, when we’re ready, it quietly introduces us to the person we’re becoming.

I sometimes wonder what our playlists would look like if we could see them as chapters of our lives. There would be songs that remind us of first love. Songs that carry heartbreak. Songs that helped us survive. Songs that quietly reminded us who we were. And perhaps, if we’re lucky, songs that introduce us to the person we’re becoming.

Maybe that’s why music matters so much. It doesn’t simply accompany our lives. Sometimes, it gently narrates them.