I still remember the day I felt like my life was at a standstill. It was my sophomore year of college, and hopelessness had crept in like a familiar shadow. I’d just wrapped up a final exams, and even though I should’ve felt relief, I mostly felt numb. One night, I decided to get in my car, roll down the windows, and just drive—no destination in mind, just a need to escape the heaviness sitting on my chest.
I flipped through radio stations, searching for something—anything—that could match the swirl of emotions I was drowning in. That’s when I stumbled upon a classic rock station playing “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks. I’d heard bits of their music before, but never in a moment this raw. Something about the gentle guitar picking and Stevie Nicks’s haunting vocals resonated with the ache I was feeling. It was like the song understood my pain before I’d even put words to it.
From that day on, I dove headfirst into Fleetwood Mac’s world. I pored over old concert footage on YouTube, watched behind-the-scenes documentaries, and devoured every track from Rumours to Tusk to Mirage. And then, when I heard they were touring again, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision: I bought tickets. It didn’t matter that the concert venue was hours away; it didn’t matter that my bank account was running low. I needed to experience that music firsthand, to feel it course through my veins in a crowded arena.
I called up a few close friends and even convinced a family member or two to come along. They knew I’d been in a rough spot mentally, and even if they didn’t share my fervent love for Fleetwood Mac, they were willing to take the trip if it meant giving me a lifeline. We piled into my beat-up car and hit the highway, blasting tracks like “Rhiannon” and “Go Your Own Way,” singing at the top of our lungs, fueled by a newfound sense of purpose that I hadn’t felt in months.
Turning Turmoil Into Beauty
Fleetwood Mac’s music was born out of real-life struggles—breakups, creative differences, and heartbreak. Hearing about their tumultuous relationships while writing Rumours made me realize that I wasn’t alone in feeling overwhelmed by life’s complexities. If anything, they showed me that turmoil could become the foundation for something beautiful. It’s not about avoiding conflict altogether, but finding ways to transform it into art, compassion, and self-awareness.
A Bonding Experience
The road trips to see Fleetwood Mac concerts weren’t just about the band—they were also about reconnecting with the people I loved. In the months leading up to that first show, I had withdrawn into myself. But music became the bridge that brought me closer to friends and family again. We laughed at silly road trip games, shared playlists, and belted out songs in unison. It reminded me that the support of others can shine a light when your mind feels shrouded in darkness.
Nostalgia as a Healing Tool
In those endless drives and late-night listening sessions, I found a nostalgia that felt oddly comforting. Songs like “Dreams” and “The Chain” transported me to different eras—both my own memories and the band’s storied past. Nostalgia can be a tricky thing, but it also allows us to revisit warmer, happier moments, reminding us that good times can exist despite hardships. Every chord or Stevie Nicks vocal run felt like an invitation to remember what it felt like to be hopeful and alive.
The Power of Sharing Vulnerability
Fleetwood Mac’s members didn’t hide their personal pain from their music. They brought it out into the open, setting it to haunting melodies and letting the world witness their vulnerability. For someone like me—who was used to bottling up anxieties and fears—seeing that raw honesty was liberating. It told me that true art, and perhaps true healing, comes from acknowledging what hurts instead of pretending it doesn’t exist.
Finding My Own Voice
One of the reasons Fleetwood Mac resonates so deeply is the sheer variety of their sound. From Lindsey Buckingham’s intricate guitar work to Christine McVie’s soothing vocals to Stevie Nicks’s poetic mysticism, it’s clear they each brought something unique to the table. They weren’t trying to be carbon copies of one another; instead, they embraced their differences and created something larger than the sum of its parts.
That realization nudged me to find and embrace my own voice. For me, it’s not about sounding perfect—it’s about authenticity. Whether I’m writing, speaking up in a group, or simply owning my story, Fleetwood Mac taught me that originality and sincerity matter more than fitting a mold.
The Joy of Live Music
Standing in that crowded arena for the first time, surrounded by thousands of fans, was electrifying. The anticipation built until the lights dimmed and the band walked on stage, launching into a familiar riff. In that moment, every anxious thought, every self-doubt that plagued me back in college, seemed to fade into the background. Instead, there was a collective energy—like we were all in this wave of sound and emotion together, singing along to “Don’t Stop” or “You Make Loving Fun,” clapping, swaying, and letting the music guide us.
For a little while, my depression and anxiety didn’t define me; the music did. That feeling, that sense of oneness, was what I needed to keep going. It reminded me that, no matter how isolated I felt, I wasn’t alone.
A Lifeline for Mental Health
Over time, Fleetwood Mac became more than just a band I listened to; they became a lifeline. When I felt the black cloud of depression looming, I’d queue up “Songbird” and let Christine McVie’s gentle reassurance wash over me. When anxiety had me pacing the floor, “The Chain” would help me channel that tension into something energetic and alive. These songs didn’t erase my problems, but they helped me feel them in a more tangible, less terrifying way—like a lightning rod for my emotions.
Moving Forward
Looking back, it’s amazing how one late-night drive with the radio on changed the entire course of my mental health journey. Fleetwood Mac was the spark, the band that reached me when I felt unreachable. They didn’t promise a cure for my hopelessness, but they offered me hope, showing me that even in the midst of chaos, there can be unity, creativity, and transformation.
I still go to their concerts (or tribute shows, if that’s all that’s available), and every time, it feels like I’m reconnecting with an old friend—one who’s been there through the tough times, the triumphant moments, and everything in between. And whenever I slip back into that dark place, I revisit their music as a reminder that storms don’t last forever. In the grand tapestry of life’s heartbreak and healing, Fleetwood Mac has given me the soundtrack to keep on going.
So, here’s to the band that taught me the power of harmony, the resilience of the human spirit, and the magic of belting out a chorus on a long highway drive. May their music continue to guide lost souls—like it did for me—toward a brighter, kinder tomorrow.
Author Info:
Max E. Guttman
Max E. Guttman is the owner of Mindful Living LCSW, PLLC, a private mental health practice in Yonkers, New York.
