The Truth Is ...: My Life in Love and Music

The Truth Is ...: My Life in Love and Music

4.7 27
by Melissa Etheridge, Laura Morton

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ln the ten years since she burst on to the international music scene, Melissa Etheridge has released six albums that have sold more than 25 million records worldwide, garnering not only public adoration for her uncompromising honesty but numerous critical awards, including two Grammys and the prestigious ASCAP Songwriter of the Year award. She has given the world…  See more details below


ln the ten years since she burst on to the international music scene, Melissa Etheridge has released six albums that have sold more than 25 million records worldwide, garnering not only public adoration for her uncompromising honesty but numerous critical awards, including two Grammys and the prestigious ASCAP Songwriter of the Year award. She has given the world unforgettable hits such as "Bring Me Some Water," "Similar Features," "Come to My Window," and "I'm the Only One," with lyrics that touch on a universal nerve and the deeply human side of relationships. Her personal journey has been captured over the years through her music, transforming her voice and musicianship into inspiring messages of love, consciousness, hope, longing, desire, and pure passion.

The Truth Is ... is a bold and unflinching account of an extraordinary life, described as only Melissa can: from her Kansas roots through her early love of music to her brilliant rise to stardom, becoming a female superstar in a male-dominated rock world. Melissa will openly discuss the massive impact of her public coming-out, a revelation that only increased her popularity and made her a highly visible spokesperson for the gay and lesbian community. The Truth Is ... shares Melissa Etheridge's fascinating story—sometimes shocking, always inspiring—with unprecedented candor and insight.

Filled with personal insights, the stories behind the music and lyrics, and never-before-seen personal photographs, The Truth Is ... is a poignant, thoughtful, sometimes difficult expression of who Melissa Etheridge has been, who she is, and who she hopes to become.

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Editorial Reviews
From her humble beginnings in Kansas to her current worldwide megastar status, Melissa Etheridge has led a fascinating life. Etheridge -- whose honesty, confidence, and talent have made her a strong role model for aspiring female musicians -- opens up about her childhood, her music, and her love life in The Truth Is.... The award-winning singer and songwriter speaks up about her much-publicized coming out, which had a dramatic effect on her personal life as well as her career, and shares the personal details behind some of her most intimate songs.

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Chapter 1: Lonely Is a Child

In the mid-eighties, as a lark, I had a past-life regression. I was trying to find out why I’m a musician. Music didn’t run in my family, and I don’t believe that musical talent or ability is inherited anyway, so I just wanted to know if I was Mozart reincarnated, or something fun like that, in a past life.

So one day, my doorbell rings and in walks the classic Crone, a big old wise woman who sat me down on my floor and began talking to me, gently and quietly. It was hypnotic. The rhythm of her voice took me back to five years ago, ten years ago, fifteen years ago, and then ages three, two, one. I’m back in the womb, looking for a light to be born into. I follow the light and start talking about being a half-Indian man in the 1800s. A doctor who died of scleroderma, a disease that hardens the skin. Then I go back farther and I’m an actor in a German cabaret in the 1600s. I was a woman dressed as a man, performing for a group of townspeople.

Who knows where all this stuff was coming from? It was bizarre. But very entertaining, very amusing, clearly all in fun. I just went with it. Then the woman began to bring me back, step by step, pulling me out of the regression, part of which is to guide you back into your current life through reexperiencing your own birth. She starts talking me through, saying, “You’re in the birth canal.” And I was feeling it. I could feel what it was like to be in the womb and then in the birth canal. And then, all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. Out of nowhere, I was feeling this great pain in my legs. I started screaming and hollering and breathing really hard. The therapist was startled by my reaction, and she brought me out as quickly as she could for fear that I was really in pain. She said, “Whoa, okay. Okay, now you’re being born—one, two, three, four—five—six—seven, eight, nine, ten! Okay, you’re born. Whew!”

She asked me if my birth had been difficult. Not that I knew of. I had never heard anything about it. I called my mom as soon as I got home, and I explained to her that I had done this past-life regression and I wanted to know if there were any problems when I was born. “Well,” she replied. “You were held back.” Held back? What did that mean? My mom sort of fumbled through her words, and then, for the first time in twenty-five years, she told me the truth about my birth.

I was born in Leavenworth, Kansas, at Cushing Memorial Hospital, on May 29, 1961. My mother went into labor at home. As soon as she arrived at the hospital, they sedated her. That was the protocol in those days. It was one o’clock in the afternoon and all the doctors had just gone to lunch. My mother was ready to push and I was ready to be born, ready to enter the world and start my life. But it couldn’t happen without a doctor being there. Of course, this was before there were pagers or cell phones, so the nurses held my mother’s legs together so that I could not come out until someone could get the doctor. They held her legs together for fifteen minutes. Fifteen desperate minutes of struggling and straining to get out. Her uterine wall was pushing up against me and, as hard as I tried, I was not allowed to enter the world as planned. And so my first experience in this world was that I was being crushed. I was in terrible pain.

Mom isn’t the kind of woman who would make a scene. Not even if she were giving birth. Mother never wanted to make trouble, especially on an emotional or spiritual level, even though everything in her body was telling her to let me out! She acquiesced, and said, “Okay, we’ll wait for the doctor.” That’s right. She put the power in somebody else’s hands, and all the while,
I’m dying.

I was born severely black-and-blue and bruised. I had a hematoma, which became a birthmark on my chest that was there until I was twenty. And my mother had never said a word to me about it. For twenty-five years. That’s my family: “We just won’t talk about it.” “Everything is fine.” I survived, so we never talked about it. Ever. And we would probably have never talked about my birth experience if I hadn’t had that past-life regression. I was born black-and-blue and close to death. I guess you can say that I was bruised from birth—figuratively and literally.

I was born on my older sister Jennifer’s birthday. I don’t think I was the present she was expecting that day she turned four. From my very first breath of life, I would be this “thing” that took attention away from her. Neither of us ever had our own birthday. We had to share the day like twins, without the joy of having a twin or the connection that comes from a twin relationship.

As far back as I can remember, my sister has been one of the most powerful influences on my life. Not in a good way, necessarily. But powerful. She was prettier, she was thinner, she was more tan, her hair was nicer. She took care of herself, she knew what clothes to wear. She had that whole girl thing I never really had. I was very much a tomboy, completely awkward in my body. I wanted to be like her. My mother never showed me how to do my hair, how to dress “right.” I still don’t know how to braid hair, I never learned to wear makeup and I never dressed especially feminine. I didn’t know how to do any of that girly stuff you’re supposed to learn as a kid. I longed for that and, on many levels, in a strange way, I got that from my sister. But, what I also got from my sister has affected my ability to connect emotionally in every way.

One of my earliest memories of Jennifer is at around age three or four. We were playing in the basement of our house. She was trying to get me to drink a Coke. I did not like anything carbonated, and for the most part, I still don’t. I can tolerate champagne, but just barely. I kept refusing to drink the Coke. I just didn’t want to drink it. My sister finally decided to hold me down on the floor and forced the Coke down my throat. She just poured it into my mouth, choking me.

After all, she was angry at me from birth. I can only imagine that she was home, expecting to celebrate her fourth birthday, and her mother and father were nowhere to be found. She sat there alone—no party, no cake, no celebration—all because I was about to come into the world.

My family, who hid any sign of emotion, never explained to Jennifer that I wasn’t a threat. All she knew was that whatever little love and attention she usually got on her birthday wasn’t going to happen that day, and she has stayed angry and envious ever since. I felt cared for in my family, but I never felt safe. As a baby,
I never learned to crawl. I scooted. There are home movies of me scooting, but none of me crawling. Experts say that this is a sign of fear. I also used to stick my finger in my ear, and my parents were concerned that maybe there was something wrong, but there wasn’t. I guess it was just a comfort thing. Comfort and safety were two things I never really sensed when I was growing up. I think this lack of warmth and affection is the spine of a lot of issues that I still carry with me today.

Outside the home, of course, was a different story. Classic America. We lived about two miles from downtown Leavenworth, down a barely paved road packed with houses full of children. There were open fields and always something to do. Kickball. Baseball. So it looked perfectly normal. Except for the prisons. The Federal Penitentiary. The Kansas State Penitentiary for Men. The Kansas State Penitentiary for Women. And the Army Penitentiary. All of which were the main industry for the town. My best friend’s dad was a guard at the prison. He used to walk to work. So it never seemed like anything out of the ordinary. Not at the time. The Federal Penitentiary had a dome, so it always looked like the Capitol Building as far as I was concerned. And I thought that every town had one.

As I got older, Jennifer got angrier and more physical. She used to torment me by hiding in the closet, or under my bed, and there was always this awkward silence just before she would jump out and scare me half to death. I knew she was hiding there and I’d just stand in the middle of the room and wait. Wait for her to scare me. To this day, I still can get frightened if someone hides and tries to scare me, even if it’s just in fun. It was very manipulative and controlling behavior—two traits that today I find so attractive in other women, especially women I am romantically involved with.

When I was around six years old, things started to change with Jennifer. She began to want things from me. Things I was uncomfortable with. I know that all kids experiment and play doctor and that might have been all Jennifer thought it was, but it sure wasn’t that to me. At night, in the bedroom of our home, she would be gentle with me, talking sweetly to me, which was curious in itself. She would tell me what to do and I would follow her directions. I would do as she asked. I knew that touching her was wrong and I knew that it was something that would never be talked about. Not in our family. I felt tremendous shame, though I didn’t know what to call it at the time.

My mother’s family was from Arkansas, right on the border of Louisiana and Texas. Just Southern, Southern, Southern. We’d go down and visit my grandparents in their house in El Dorado (that’s El Dor-AY-do, not El Dor-ah-do). My grandfather was in the oil business and the whole place smelled like oil. The whole town. We’d visit for a bit. And then we’d all pile into the pickup, four grown-ups on the front seat, all the kids in the open back, and just drive down the freeway, eighty miles an hour. I’m surprised we didn’t lose one of us, going so fast. We’d head over to my grandparents’ cabin in Strong, Arkansas, which was in the middle of nowhere. We’d spend most of the summer there. Fishing in the pond. Playing. Just being out in the dirt.

In El Dorado, my sister and I would spend time alone. In the bedroom we shared. Or the playhouse outside. The same pattern repeated again. Where Jennifer would talk to me. Sweetly. Gently. Her pants would slide off and I would follow her directions. Her instructions: Do this, do that. The words sounded nice, but there’s nothing nice about it. She wasn’t my friend. It felt like something was being taken from me. And I felt horrible. Just horrible. I would step outside myself and just watch. I’d become an observer. Passing through.

And then, after it was over, I’d eat. My Grandma’s white coconut cake. I’d sit at the kitchen table and fill myself up. Fill myself up with something that felt good. Tasted good. I’d give myself pleasure in the only way I knew how. Food. It never occurred to me to talk to anyone about this—about my sister or the way I felt. We didn’t do that in my family. We didn’t talk about things. Not ever.

My relationship with my sister went on this way for years. And it only stopped when I got up the courage to stop it. We were all of us going down to Arkansas one year, and before we got to our grandparents’ house, we stopped at a hotel in Eureka Springs. My sister and I were standing in the bathroom, brushing our teeth, and she hit me right across the face, really really hard. It was like pow! It didn’t make any sense at all. It was clear out of the blue. The television was on in the room. Bella Abzug was speaking at the 1972 Democratic National Convention. I was eleven years old. I just remember thinking to myself that this was all wrong. And that’s when it stopped. That’s when I said, enough. You have had enough of me. I stopped it. I removed myself from ever being in that situation with her again. I didn’t spend time with my sister alone. Not unless I absolutely had to.

But I still felt empty. I felt like there was this hole inside me that needed to be filled. So I looked for ways to fill it up. Food was one. Movies were another.

I’d watch a film and dream that life could be like that: a world where everything’s all nice and neat and people love each other, and then they’re sad and they’re angry and they’re happy, and then it either turns out okay or everybody dies. There’s always an ending in the movies, whether it is happy or sad. I thought, “That’s the way life is supposed to be.” I really believed in the fantasy of happily ever after and believed that you can find love that lasts forever. I believed in that Hollywood thing. Growing up, I had no other input on relationships, love, or life. Movies and television told me what it all should be and should mean. It was also a way that I could experience emotion. For two hours, sitting in a dark theater where no one else could see me—see me laugh, cry, or react to whatever was happening on the screen—I could escape the reality of my life and safely dream about my future. For those couple of hours, no one was going to say, “Don’t do that,” or “We don’t react that way.”

The one thing that did keep me safe, that gave me a feeling of comfort growing up, was music. Music took me somewhere safe—a place where I was happy and free and comfortable being myself. I knew from a very young age that music was something I wanted to be a part of. It was something that made me feel good and helped me escape to a place where life was how I always dreamed it should be. Where life was like the movies. Fairy-tale endings and unconditional love.

I remember hearing the Beatles for the very first time, in 1964. I was standing in my driveway and putting my ear to our tiny transistor radio. Even with the crackling, barely audible sound that the transistor radio made, I heard “I Want to Hold Your Hand” for the first time, and I thought that I had heard the voice of God. It was the most incredible thing I’d ever heard, and it moved me in a way I had never before experienced. I became obsessed with music.

After that, I had the radio on constantly. Johnny Dohlens, WHB, Kansas City. They played everything on the radio back then. Rock. Pop. Everything. And I’d listen to it all. No judgment. I’d listen to my parents’ albums. They had everything from Neil Diamond to the Mamas and the Papas. Bolero to Janis Joplin and Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. My sister had much cooler albums like Humble Pie, Led Zeppelin, and George Harrison. Music was complete pleasure. Just like my Grandma’s white coconut cake. I’d get completely absorbed into it, focused. I’m just completely there and the world goes away.

I’d listen to the music and I’d watch it, too. The Ed Sullivan Show, The Dick Cavett Show, The Red Skelton Show. I’d watch all the shows that had live music on them. And I’d watch the people singing the music. Making the music. Mick Jagger. The Beatles. But it was the Archies who were the most influential. I’d watch the Archies and then I’d get the neighborhood kids together, get all the pots and pans out, and do a show in the garage. I never wanted to be Betty or Veronica. I wanted to be Reggie. I always wanted to be Rock and Roll. I drew a big sign that said Archies with a circle around it, put everyone in their place, and then we’d do a show. I was the lead guitarist of course. Jumping up and down with my badminton racquet. We’d play “Sugar, Sugar,” Tommy James and the Shondells and Steppenwolf. Every day after school became “Magic Carpet Ride” time.

One day, my father came home with a real guitar for me. I hadn’t even been asking for one. He just brought it home. I didn’t know that he knew I was playing the badminton racquet. It was a Stella, by Harmony, which is actually a pretty good first guitar for a kid in Kansas. He bought it at Tarbot’s Tune Shop in town. I would go down there late in the afternoons after school, and I would see my guitar teacher, Mr. Don Raymond, an old big-band jazz guitarist. I’m sure he had been a fabulous musician in his day, but a tragic accident cut off the fingers on his left hand, right at the knuckles. So he learned to play with his right hand. I was eight years old and it was pretty scary to look at his fingers, or what used to be his fingers, but he was a serious musician and he taught me to be a serious musician and to take my lessons very earnestly. I learned all of the notes on the guitar, one by one, string by string, every day, until I actually learned a song. It was a simple song, but it was the first song I ever learned and pretty soon those notes turned into chords and my chords turned into more songs. Before I knew it, I was playing “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “Sugar, Sugar.” Playing them for real. I was making the music. Not pretending anymore.

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Meet the Author

Melissa Etheridge lives in Southern California.

Laura Morton has coauthored a number of bestselling celebrity books. She lives in New York City.

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Truth Is . . .: My Life in Love and Music 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 27 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Loved the book!!
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Guest More than 1 year ago
I just want to say that I watch alot of TV and when I got online to buy this book I was not let down. This book is the best. I was so excited to buy it and when I got it I had to work, but when I got home that night I picked it up and read it. It only took me 2 days to read this. That's how interesting it was. When she was talking about how her Father didn't care about her sexuality, that hit home. My Partner's Father didn't care about her sexuality. And about jumping from one relationship to another until she found the one, that was me. If anybody gets a chance to read this book, You'll love it. My Partner is reading it now. Thanks to the reviews I read before I bought it. I'll always trust the reviews. I'm ready to enjoy some other Lesbian based books.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I bought this book about a year ago and I have read it twice. I am 17 years old and a lesbian. Though my parents do not know and are strictly opposed to the lifestyles of gay people. I have been a Melissa Etheridge fan for about four years. My parents don't have a big problem with me listening to her music but they would not let me buy this book. So one day while a friend and I were at the mall I stopped into Barnes & Noble and bought it. I had been planning it for weeks, and I took a backpack with me instead of my purse so I could 'smuggle' it into our house. When I got home I raced upstairs and hid it in the wall of my built-in drawers. That night I stayed up until 6 in the morning reading it. I could not put it down! This book has changed my life. I have always admired Melissa as a person, musician, activist and as a woman. But this book has helped me see and accept my truth and has given me the courage to realize what I must inevitably do to make my truth a reality. She is the best role model I could ever ask for and I wish her so much happiness. I hope that she knows how many lives she has touched and, quite possibly changed, forever. The experiences of this book were probably very painful for her to put down on paper for the whole world to see but I hope she realizes that even if my life is the only one she has helped, all of the pain, sadness and hurt that went into this book, has not been in vain. Even if you are not a Melissa fan I highly recommend that you buy this book. If you are the parent, friend or family member of a gay or lesbian person I think it would be an invaluble piece of literature to have. The demons that Melissa has had to overcome are not limited to her life only. We all, at some point have experienced something like this... and it is even harder to go through when you have a secret, like I do, and no one to understand you and just love you for who you are. ~ A Melissa fan for life, LP.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book is totally honest and open. She holds nothing back from her readers and she sheds light on her life that makes me appreciate who she is not only as a fellow perfomer but as a wonderful, amazing person. You won't be able to put this book down!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Always been a fan of Melissa the artist, but now it's so much deeper. I love this woman as a person, an artist, and just as a strong woman. A must read, for any woman out there. Gives us courage and confidence in our own dreams. I read it twice already, both times in one day. Remarkably honest and heartfelt. She lays it all out there for the world to see.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Whether you started out a fan of Melissa's or not, you will be after you read this book. I liked the song 'Come to my Window' - that song, and the publicized relationship Melissa had with Julie Cypher were about all I knew of the singer before I heard that she had written a book. Thinking it would be entertaining, I bought it. Entertaining was an understatement. This book is helping me to change my life, or remember it, I should say. In 'The Truth is...' Melissa reminds us how important it is to stand in your own truth, to be an active part of your own present and future and to make peace with your past. This well written, thought provoking book not only makes you feel like you know Melissa better, but like you know yourself better. Like looking into a mirror, 'The Truth is...' reminds you that each one of use share the same demons in our past, insecurities in our present, and concerns about our future. This book will help to remind you to look at the truth in your own life, to be who you are. For me, this book has helped me to remember my future.... to remember all of the dreams that I had for myself in love and life, and that, if I believe in me and live for me, I can arrive at the future that I have longed for. Read the book, and let Melissa's truth remind you to embrace your own.
Guest More than 1 year ago
It's not often that I can't put a book down until it's finished but this is one of those books. The truth, honesty, emotion and sincerity that Melissa puts out there and into words is incredible. Her dreams of becoming a rock star and committed partner make you root for her throughout the book. I wish her all the best. She's earned her success.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I have enjoyed Melissas music for some time now and purchased her book only yesterday. I started reading and in 4 hours finished what I would call a 'Great, Sad, Inspiring Book' What a journey to get to stardom and what a journey looking for love. Slow down now Melissa, enjoy your ritches and good friends. You have attained your goal. The love part will come with your children. We may go through a number of 'lovers' but our children will offer the only 'unconditional love' we will find. They don't care what we do, they will always love us. This is a very good book and my only advice to Melissa, Stop pushing so hard. It's time to enjoy what you have. You are an 'Old Soul' that has come a long way. Good luck!
Guest More than 1 year ago
I love to read bio's about anyone regardless of what field their in. But never have I read any book in one evening. I couldn't put it down. I am a Melissa Etheridge fan (no I'm not gay) and love her music. But to overcoming so much to follow a dream. Not just becoming a musician but of being an honest person living an honest and open life. You'll find a loving person with a huge heart inside the pages of this book and before your through you might just see a reflection of yourself. Bravo and Bravo again....
Guest More than 1 year ago
It's not very often that I can sit down and read a book from cover to cover without stopping. This is by far the best autobiography I've ever read. Melissa held back no punches, no tears, no secrets. I expected the book to be a more personal replay of things I already knew about her... and I was terribly mistaken. I laughed, cried, felt anger and inspiration. This book is a must read for anyone who has sturggled to survive in this life, anyone who has ever been in love, and anyone who needs help coming to grips with who they are on the inside.
Guest More than 1 year ago
It is rare that I find a book I really enjoy and can't put down. I heard about this book and thought I would give it a try. I guess the reason I wanted to try it was b/c I am gay and so is Melissa (Silly Reason). But once I started this book, I could not stop reading. I didn't even want to sleep last night or go to work today. This book is for gay, straight, bi, black, white, orange,whatever you are, you should buy this book. This is a book you read and want to go and buy more and send a copy to all of your friends. After reading this book, you will see that Melissa does not only write songs well, but does an excellent job at writing a book also. Give it a try
Guest More than 1 year ago
I have to give a book 5 stars that I read in a 24 hour period, simply because I couldn't put it down, even to go to sleep. M.E.'s relationships and emotional growth documented in the book, along with reflections on music, lyrics and the art form are fascinating! There are several passages in the book I found so profoud that I folded down the pages and have reread since finishing the book. Thoroughly enjoyable!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Yes, I'm a Melissa fan and have been since her first album, but I didn't expect her book to be as good as it is. I couldn't put it down and went through the various emotions along with Melissa...I laughed, I cried, and I learned a little more about myself. Jeez, I'm not the only person going through these emotions in life?! Thanks Melissa for letting us in, and letting us come out! And yes, 'Breakdown' showed all the signs of a deteriorating relationship. I was there too and broke free too...One of her best CD's to date.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Unfortunately I don't read a lot, but what i do read i love, and this was the best book i have ever read. It was very interesting and i would definitely recommend it to someone. It is really worth reading
Guest More than 1 year ago
I ordered Melissa's book, and as soon as I began to read it I literally could not put it down. Having been a fan of Melissa for many years I was really interested in reading her autobiography. It was a thoughtful, passionate record of the events in her life that have shaped the woman that she is today. This is an amazing book, you will not be disappointed at all. Wonderfully written from cover to cover. Thank you Melissa for writing such a phenomenal book.