The Emptiness Machine

It started with a song, one I know well, have listened to countless times. It was the song that brought Linkin Park onto the stage, and it was the first, but not the last, song they performed that night that spoke to my soul.

I wanna heal, I wanna feel What I thought was never real I wanna let go of the pain I've held so long (Erase all the pain 'til it's gone) I wanna heal, I wanna feel Like I'm close to something real I wanna find something I've wanted all along Somewhere I belong

-Somewhere I Belong, Linkin Park

About a year ago, Linkin Park released their first single in 7 years, a significant and heart wrenching gap following the death of lead vocalist Chester Bennington in 2017. I knew I’d be moved by this album, but I had no idea how much the first single would speak to me.

In fact, I wasn’t completely pummeled by The Emptiness Machine until that night earlier this month in Boston when I saw Linkin Park perform it live in concert.

With Brendan at Linkin Park in Boston, August 2025

When Linkin Park announced their tour last year, my son Brendan asked me to buy tickets for Christmas or his birthday. Linkin Park is his favorite band, for which I feel responsible since they are in my top three (along with Bon Jovi and Foo Fighters) and I’m the one who introduced him to their music.  We had seen them in concert when he was 10 years old, and were hopeful they would continue to record and perform after Chester died by suicide. The wait was worth it. The new album is amazing, especially with Emily Armstrong joining as the lead vocalist (I have another whole blog story coming soon about female empowerment). So Brendan didn’t have to ask twice for tickets. The day tickets went on sale in November for the Boston show, I snagged a pair. Then we had to wait.

Eight. Long. Months.

A lot happened during those eight months. I had essentially become the emptiness machine in my relationship with Andy.

I let you cut me open, just to watch me bleed Gave up who I am for who you wanted me to be

This, however, wasn’t the first time I had become an emptiness machine in a relationship. After I busted Seth cheating and we started marriage counseling, he told the therapist that I spent all my time writing and he was sucked into click bait and the eventual affair because I wasn’t giving him enough attention. That ruined writing for me, hence why I haven’t published a novel since, ummm, 2017?? I lost that part of myself and I am still struggling to get it back (blogging at a regular cadence is a step in the right direction).

The emptiness machine I became with Andy, though, was so much more traumatic. 

Your blades are sharpened with precision Flashing your favorite point of view I know you're waiting in the distance Just like you always do, just like you always do Already pulling me in, already under my skin And I know exactly how this ends

From the beginning, I ignored the red flags (a story for another post) and gave him the benefit of the doubt. I allowed him to gaslight me regularly because I thought it was a result of his past relationship trauma. I allowed it, but not without consequence.   

I only wanted to be part of something

I do my best not to judge people for what happened in their past. At this age, we all have baggage, and Andy’s baggage was heavy. So I tolerated a lot. Too much.

I let you cut me open, just to watch me bleed Gave up who I am for who you wanted me to be Don't know why I'm hoping for what I won't receive Falling for the promise of the emptiness machine

The gaslighting and overall negativity cost me my individuality, my independence, and my soul. I withdrew into myself, just a shell of the happy woman I had worked hard to become after the divorce and the heartbreaking split from Lance. It didn’t happen overnight. It was weeks, then months of tolerance, letting his behavior whittle away at me until I was so low, I didn’t even recognize the person I had become. I started therapy and a couple months later, in January, the day after my birthday, he pushed me over the edge and I left him. My journey continued with me striving to reclaim the woman I had been. I was still in therapy, reconnecting with friends, partaking in self-care, and doing the work.

Enjoying a relaxing Monday evening after a motorcycle ride and dip in the pool.

I got to a good place, a really good place, and started feeling like myself again. My muse returned, still somewhat muted, but gently coaxing me to let her out. I even started allowing myself to have fun.

The concert came at an ideal time. I didn’t feel that I needed any more closure on the relationship with Andy, but this concert gave it to me anyway, the final nail in the coffin before that part of my story gets laid to rest forever. The concert happened to be on Andy’s birthday. Back when I booked the tickets, even though I had discussed it with him and he encouraged me to go, I knew it was going to be an issue when the time came. Five songs into the concert, Linkin Park performed The Emptiness Machine, as if they knew better than I that the coffin needed to be sealed on this particular day. This song hit, just as Somewhere I Belong had, but at a much deeper level.

Going around like a revolver It's been decided how we lose' Cause there's a fire under the altar I keep on lying to, I keep on lying to Already pulling me in, already under my skin And I know exactly how this ends

I felt every word, every beat, every subtle message deep in my soul. With the song’s theme about manipulation, about seeking connection through the turmoil of futility and loss, I let the tears well and fall, a final goodbye to the relationship I had doubted the longevity of for a year and a half.  

I let you cut me open, just to watch me bleed Gave up who I am for who you wanted me to be Don't know why I'm hoping, so fucking naive Falling for the promise of the emptiness machine

Linkin Park on stage at the Boston Garden, August 2025

I forgave myself for compromising my own identity to live up to his shifting expectations and reminded myself the cost of that compromise isn’t permanent. My hollow existence, the emptiness machine, is once again filled and my intent is to take care of myself so I can keep it filled and replenish it when it starts to empty.

Music has always spoken to me, so much so that it gets a chapter in my self-help memoir Thriving in the Aftermath. Typically the music that speaks to me best is Bon Jovi. With every album they release, it is like Jon has peered deep into my heart and soul to serenade me with a therapeutic rhythm that heals every scar and validates every ugly emotion. This time, though, Linkin Park, through The Emptiness Machine and other songs in their Boston set list, spoke to me with the message I needed in a moment when I didn’t realize I needed it. That has propelled me to keep doing the work and inspired me to continue to unmute the muse.

I'm here, thriving in the aftermath.

All lyrics are the property of Linkin Park. I claim no ownership.