Andy Grammer

I don’t always heal through a single song.
Sometimes, healing comes through a voice that stays with you for years.

For me, that voice belongs to Andy Grammer.

I first started listening to Andy Grammer in 2017—a time when my life was quietly unraveling. I didn’t recognize it all at once, but piece by piece, I was losing myself. Not just as a woman, but even as a mother. I was surviving, not living. Existing, not feeling seen.

Then I heard Crazy Beautiful.

There was something about that song that reached me in a way I didn’t yet have words for. It didn’t try to fix me. It didn’t demand strength. It simply saw me—flaws, fear, softness, and all—and reminded me that beauty still existed inside the mess.

As I listened to more of his music, I realized it wasn’t just one song.
It was the way his lyrics held space for brokenness and hope at the same time.
The way vulnerability wasn’t weakness—it was humanity.
The way joy didn’t erase pain, but lived alongside it.

Andy Grammer’s music became something steady for me during years when nothing else felt stable. His songs reminded me that I was allowed to take up space. That I was allowed to feel deeply. That I was still worthy of love, even when I felt lost inside myself.

In moments when I didn’t recognize my own reflection, his music helped me remember who I was before survival mode took over—and who I still had the potential to become.

This is why, in my healing journey, Andy Grammer isn’t just an artist I listen to.
He’s part of how I found my way back to myself.

Sometimes healing doesn’t come loudly.
Sometimes it comes softly—through a familiar voice reminding you that you were always more than the pain you were carrying.