Music as a Refuge — How Madonna Saved My Younger Self

August 23rd — Mentally stuck in the year 1998. Still listening. Still that same chill down my spine. 

It's year 1998. I still remember rushing home, turning on MTV, like I always did back then, and suddenly there she was: Madonna in a black gown, standing in the desert, her voice echoing like it came from another world. It wasn't just a music video. It was a portal.

At the time, I didn't have the words for it, but I knew something inside me shifted. I was watching an artist show a side of herself that was completely new. And maybe it also opened a door in me, a glimpse of a bigger world than the one I lived in.

Music as survival

For a long time, I carried childhood memories mostly as heavy, anxious, unsafe. Only later, in therapy, did I realize there were also moments of light, play and imagination. And some of that light came from music.

Because I didn't only watch Madonna — I became her.
I dressed up, painted my face, studied every move, and performed in front of the mirror. For those moments, I wasn't just a kid trying to get through a difficult time. I was a superstar. I was powerful. I was free.

Music was my escape, but more than that: it was a survival tool. It gave me a world where I was safe to dream, to move, to shine.

Ray of Light — a shockwave

When Ray of Light was released, it felt like a shock. Not only for me, but for the whole world. Pop music had never sounded like this before. It was electronic and spiritual at once. William Orbit's production created vast, otherworldly soundscapes. And Madonna's lyrics spoke about motherhood, meaning, love, loss, and light.

For her, it was a turning point: no longer the eternal provocateur, she dared to show her inner world instead. That was a risk, and yet it became one of the most celebrated albums of her career.

Listening now, I hear it differently. Back then, I was fascinated but confused. Today, I hear a woman reinventing herself, daring to be vulnerable, and proving that art can be reborn at any age.

The aesthetic of Ray of Light

What also fascinates me about this era is its visual world. Madonna looked freer, softer, more connected to herself: long blonde hair, a more natural look, flowing fabrics, almost a hippie-like earthiness. She radiated inner transformation, and it showed in every detail.

But this wasn't the only face of Ray of Light. The music videos created entirely different universes: In Frozen, she became a dark, gothic figure, cloaked in black, moving ritualistically across a barren desert. Hypnotic, mystical, almost archetypal, as if she had stepped out of the realm of pop and into myth.

In Nothing Really Matters, she shifted again, this time into a futuristic Japanese aesthetic. Dressed in a red kimono, inhabiting surreal, minimalist spaces, she looked both alien and ethereal. A vision that felt unsettling and beautiful all at once.

Together, these aesthetics — the natural, the mystical, the futuristic — created a Madonna who was larger than life and yet deeply human. A woman reinventing herself not just through music, but through image, embodying every contradiction: light and dark, earth and spirit, past and future.

Nothing Really Matters — a song reborn

My favorite song from the album has always been Nothing Really Matters, and listening to it now, I hear it differently. Madonna sings: "Everything I give you, all comes back to me."

And I realize, she was singing about a mother's love. A love that is unconditional, cyclical, alive. Today I understand it in my own way. I may not be a mother of children, but I am a dog mama. And with him, I feel that same truth: everything I give, all the love, all the care, it always comes back to me. That's what makes this song so timeless. It transforms with you. The older you get, the more it reveals.

Maybe that's why I've been listening to it endlessly lately. It mirrors something in me, this season of life, when I, too, am finding new layers of myself, after all the surviving, after all the growing.

Looking back with soft eyes

Looking back, I see it so clearly: what looked like play was actually wisdom. My younger self created a sanctuary in pop music. Madonna wasn't just an idol — she was a lifeline.

And even now, when I listen to Ray of Light or Nothing Really Matters, I can feel that same strength. The reminder that art can save us, that beauty and sound can carry us through even the darkest years.

Music has always been more than background noise to me, it has been a refuge, a survival tool, a way of breathing. Maybe that's why I've also created playlists on Spotify, little safe spaces of sound. If you'd like, you can listen to them here.

Did you have a refuge like that growing up? A song, an artist, a book, a place where you could feel free? I'd love to hear your memories, if you feel like sharing. 💜

And if you'd like to continue this conversation, you can find me on Instagram @selflavie — that's where I share soft reflections, gentle reminders, and little glimpses of everyday life.

Soft hugs,
Selflavie