Lavender bubbles.

Music has always been a love of mine – even if it doesn’t always show.

I’m not one to remember lyrics word for word.

I can barely recall song titles, let alone who sings them.

And if you throw obscure-sounding band names at me, I’m not going to have a clue.

But still – I like what I like.

And at the ripe old age of 31, I’m finally learning to be okay with that. Which means I’m only slightly less embarrassed when Spotify Wrapped exposes me at the end of each year.

Slightly being the keyword.

The point is, when I say I like pretty much anything, I genuinely mean it.

Except for heavy metal – that one gets a hard no from me.

But beyond that? If the melody hits right or the lyrics happen to land somewhere meaningful, it’s going on the playlist.

However, every now and then, a song goes beyond being “one I like” to become so much more.

An anthem. A motivator. A companion.  

And during my time in the hospital, that song was From Now On.

Yes, the song from The Greatest Showman.

Cheesy? Absolutely. But I’m owning it.

Because while the rest of the world was still belting out Keala Settle’s This Is Me, I was quietly clinging to Hugh Jackman’s chorus as if my life depended on it.

But why did this become my unofficial anthem in 2018?

Well… on those evenings when I was allowed to escape my room on Ward 4C at the Queen Elizabeth, I’d find myself in my mum and dad’s room at Marion's House. And there, tucked away in their simple little ensuite, was a bathtub calling my name.

It was nothing fancy – just a standard white tub – but to me, it felt like a sanctuary, where I’d pour in lavender bubbles, slide under the water, and for the first time in weeks, I’d feel something resembling peace.

A simple luxury, but one that gave me back a sliver of normality. A pocket of quiet away from the relentless rhythm of obs, drips, and machines.

And that’s where the soundtrack came in.

Unfortunately, relaxing with a book wasn’t an option – chemo had turned my brain to mush — so instead, I’d reach for music. And after finally giving in to The Greatest Showman hype (a few months behind the rest of the world), I found myself looping the soundtrack over and over.

And while every song had its moment – I guess that's why it was such a hit – one always rose above the rest.

From Now On.

But it wasn’t just the defiant, drumbeat-thumping, goosebump-inducing melody that I loved.

It was the lyrics, too.

And we will come back home

And we will come back home

Home again!

Repeated. Chanted. Declared with such conviction that it felt impossible not to believe it.

And I did. I felt it.

I would get back home.

Home to Ballymena? Home to Ben? Home to a version of myself that existed before all this?

I wasn’t sure exactly.

But I knew home would be somewhere safe.

Somewhere free from beeping monitors and IV drips.

Free from the fear and fragility that lingered every day I was on that ward.

Free from the strange, suspended version of life I was now living.

For me, “home” became a promise of survival; of life beyond cancer.

My own quiet north star, guiding me through the darkest nights.

It definitely wasn’t the vibe the songwriters were going for. But it didn’t matter. For me, it fit.

Like an anthem in my heart…

In that bath, surrounded by lavender bubbles and steam, I let the words wash over me, again and again.

My own quiet anthem, reminding me to keep going.