206. Songs That Heal: A Divorce Recovery Conversation with Singer-Songwriter Brian Wolff

Summer Song Series: A Conversation with Brian Wolfe

Brian Wolfe is a guitarist, singer, and songwriter based here in Austin, originally from upstate New York, outside Binghamton. He found his way to Austin to chase music seriously, and if you've ever flown through the Austin airport, you know exactly why. There's live music on practically every corner of that place. It's the most Austin thing in the world.

His sound sits somewhere in classic rock, nineties influence, with a bluesy edge running underneath it.

I found Brian the way I find most of my favorite things in this city: at the farmers market. I was sitting on the curb on a Saturday morning, gluten-free donut in hand, coffee going, listening to whoever happened to be playing that day. One particular song stopped me cold. I had an emotional response right there on the curb. I immediately thought of my own story, and of the women I work with every day. I walked up to him afterward and told him I needed that song.

We stayed loosely in touch after that, following each other's journeys, and as his touring picked up, I knew I wanted to have him on before life got even busier for him. So here we are.

On Songwriting as Therapy

Brian shared that while he's never been married, he's been through plenty of breakups, and a lot of his songwriting comes from working through hard things in life. Music has always been a kind of therapy for him, both as a listener and later as a writer. He talked about wanting to maintain hope as a person, and how he hopes that comes through in what he writes.

That theme, finding an outlet so the hard stuff doesn't take over every part of your life, came up again and again throughout our conversation.

The Story Behind the First Song

The first song we talked about came from an unexpected place. Brian hosted his own podcast in 2020, talking to creatives about their process. Two Austin comedians he interviewed shared that they'd been bullied as kids and started telling jokes as a kind of defense. If they could make people laugh, nothing could hurt them.

That conversation took Brian back to his own childhood, being a heavier kid and getting picked on, and how much that hurt at the time. The song came from imagining what he'd say to his younger self: that there's another side to this, that you won't always be living inside it.

Interestingly, when Brian went through a difficult breakup years later, he heard his own song differently. He played it the day after the breakup and felt something shift, even though that wasn't what he originally wrote it about.

We talked through several lines together: the idea of finding your own value outside of how other people see you, the exhausting effort of trying not to care what others think, and the line about not being able to change other people, only yourself. Brian connected this to The Four Agreements and the practice of not taking things personally. He was honest that it's a goal more than something he's mastered, something he's still learning every year as he discovers new things he thought he could control and realizes he can't.

For me, this line landed somewhere very specific: divorcing someone who still wore the nice guy mask in public, while people who only saw the surface couldn't understand what the relationship had actually been. That particular kind of misjudgment creates a real and valid rage. You want to scream that they have no idea what was actually happening.

Brian's response was thoughtful: most people, especially as adults, aren't really thinking about you at all. They're caught up in their own lives. A lot of the fear of judgment lives more in our own heads than in other people's actual attention.

We also talked about the shift in the song from "I don't have to live this way" to "it won't always be this way," a subtle but powerful change in perspective. Brian described that repeated line as something he needed to say like a mantra, something that needed to be said more than once to really land.

The Story Behind the Second Song

The second song came from watching someone Brian cares about stay stuck in pain from something that happened at work, long after she'd already moved on to a new job. He talked about how badly he wanted to take that pain away for her, and the particular frustration of wanting to help someone let go of something when you can't actually make that happen for them.

I shared how much this resonated from the perspective of a betrayed partner watching someone they love struggle with addiction. That fixer instinct, the wanting to rescue, the wishing you could free someone from something that has such a hold on them. And the layered version of letting go this song points to: wanting someone else to let something go, and then having to let go of your own need to make that happen.

We talked about the image of a cracked mirror, and how relationships can plant ideas in our heads about who we are that are hard to shake, even years later. Brian shared something his own therapist told him, using an analogy about turning down certain internal voices and turning up others. We talked about the difference between pretending pain isn't there and actually letting it move through you, and how things left unprocessed can eventually show up in the body.

One line in particular, about another hill to climb, brought up something deeply personal for me: the early days after my own divorce, parenting four kids alone, where simply getting out of bed felt like climbing a hill one leg at a time. Brian's response was simple and true: recovering from something hard is a daily process, and some days that hill is much bigger than others.

On Community and Being Seen

Toward the end of the song, the perspective shifts from "I want you to heal" to "we want you to heal," with more voices joining in. Brian explained this was intentional: starting with one person showing up for someone, then expanding into the idea that a whole community is there too.

We talked about what it means to be seen, both individually and within community, and how that ties into basic attachment theory. Brian shared that he believes that line touches on something universal: the desire for someone to simply keep living, to stay, to not give up. He acknowledged it could be read in the context of suicidal ideation, and agreed that having people who want you to live can sometimes be exactly what keeps you here.

Closing Thoughts

Brian closed with something simple. Keep going. There is some kind of light, even when it's hard to find and the days feel dark. It gets a little better, and then a little better again. There are reasons to believe in a future.

That is exactly the note I want to end every episode on: you are the chooser in your life. 

Amie Woolsey is a certified somatic healing practitioner, specializing in brtrayal trauma, abuse and divorce. She works with women and men navigating betrayal trauma, high conflict divorce, and the long road of rebuilding. Learn more at  amiewoolsey.com.

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