How Amy Winehouse Healed My Broken Heart

By

Amy Winehouse
While the singer sought oblivion from heartache in alcohol and drugs, I sought it in her.

That big bouffant, those bold tattoos, the strapless 60's sheaths and deep, soulful voice. Amy Winehouse, despite her tortured soul, let the world know through her music that it was okay to be yourself. Even if you were vulnerable, desperately wanting of love and a little bit of a mess. Even if you were battling a broken heart. Amy Winehouse Found Dead At 27: Was A Broken Heart To Blame?

I didn't know Amy, but I loved her for the artist she was and for the life and creativity she injected into a ho-hum music scene. As a music lover and recreational singer, nothing brought me greater joy than to listen to Amy's music and sing her songs. After my initial love affair with "Back to Black," an album that has held court in my disc rotation for over four years, I special ordered her first album, "Frank," which had yet to be released in the U.S. When it arrived, it felt like I'd been given the rarest of jewels. I was a law student, but my heart wasn't in my studies. It was in the clouds, wrapped up in a romance with a classmate that, only a year earlier, had started as a fairytale but was breaking at the seams. It was a classic case of codependent, unrequited love on my part. It was during the worst of those times when I needed Amy the most, and she was there. Complete This Sentence: My Favorite Amy Winehouse Love Song Is...

When my boyfriend nonchalantly phoned me from a semester abroad (in Amy's London, no less) to tell me he didn't love me anymore, my heart broke into tiny pieces. The idea of a happy life together surrounded by a white-picketed fence dissipated in an instant. ("We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times ...") I had done everything humanly possible to keep our relationship together, because I loved him and, at that time, our relationship was all I had. I had forgotten myself. My interests had been replaced by constant studying and a need to hang on to someone who provided me with a temporary identity as a loving girlfriend. I wasn't singing anymore because I had no voice. I didn't know who I was outside of that relationship. And then, it was gone. 

 
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