At Brickel & Associates, we believe in seeing people through a trauma-informed lens—understanding them not just by their public accomplishments or visible behaviors, but by the complexity and strength of their inner world, shaped by relationships, experiences, and resilience. That lens came into sharp focus while watching the recent HBO documentary, Billy Joel: And So It Goes, which offers a deeply personal portrait of the man behind the music.
To the world (and me!), Billy Joel is a legend—one of the best-selling artists of all time, a six-time Grammy winner, and the iconic Piano Man whose music has been part of my life for decades. And So It Goes is more than a tribute to a successful career. Through archival footage, intimate interviews, and unflinching honesty, it reveals a profound complex trauma history: intergenerational trauma, abandonment, betrayal, depression, addiction, and deep emotional pain—alongside incredible creativity, connection, and a remarkable capacity for joy.
Through a trauma-informed lens, I not only see this amazing musician, but also the man—a survivor—navigating a lifetime of hardship while still choosing to create, connect, and show up. My fandom has now increased, which you will see in this article, which reflects on his journey, as a mirror to many of the themes explored with our clients every day: the cost of survival, the courage to tell your story, and the surprising ways healing can happen.
Looking at Billy Joel Through a Trauma-Informed Lens
Trauma is not just about one catastrophic event. Trauma is how we internalize disruptions to our safety, belonging, and identity. From an early age, Billy Joel experienced these disruptions in powerful ways.
When he was just eight years old, Joel’s father—a Holocaust survivor and classically trained pianist—left the family and returned to Europe. Billy wouldn’t see him again for decades. This kind of early attachment trauma – abandonment – often leaves invisible scars, including a deep sense of unworthiness, confusion, and mistrust in relationships.
Later in life, his challenges continued: tumultuous relationships, substance misuse, betrayal of and by those he trusted—including business partners who left him financially devastated. These aren’t just “bad breaks”—they are relational traumas that can erode self-trust and reinforce cycles of pain.
Music became more than a passion— it was a way to cope; to make sense of the world – it was a lifeline. He immersed himself in piano. It was a way to soothe himself, to express what had no spoken words, and to shape an identity out of the chaos. This adaptive strategy—relying on creativity for regulation and expression—is common among trauma survivors and became a defining theme of his life.
The Role of Music as Emotional Survival
In our work as trauma-informed therapists, we often talk about how survivors develop adaptive strategies to manage their pain. For Joel, music was clearly one of those lifelines. It offered an emotional language when words might have failed, a way to express and regulate overwhelming feelings, and a source of connection when relationships felt unsafe or unpredictable.
Songs like You May Be Right, Goodnight Saigon, and And So It Goes aren’t just hits—they’re intimate glimpses into a man reckoning with loss, longing, and emotional vulnerability. His songs tell the story of someone who felt deeply but didn’t always know how to be safely held.
This creative expression mirrors the experiences of many trauma survivors—those who learn to channel their pain into something beautiful or meaningful. As we explored in an earlier article on Elton John and Rocketman, art can be both a shield and a sword: a way to protect oneself, and a way to confront and transform pain.
Depression, Suicidality, and the Invisibility of Pain
Perhaps the most wrenching moment in And So It Goes comes when Joel discusses his suicide attempts. Alone and overwhelmed, he tried twice, desperately to make the pain stop. His message, he says, wasn’t “I want to die,” but “I don’t know how to live with this pain.”
That distinction is crucial. Many trauma survivors carry immense emotional pain, often silently. Without tools or language to express it, and without safe people to receive it, that pain can become overwhelming. Joel’s story reminds us how important it is to listen for what’s underneath despair—because often, it’s not a wish to die, but a longing for relief, connection, and hope.
Even out of so much pain, came his songwriting. Writing “Captain Jack” – a creative output as a way of processing pain and transforming it into something sharable and resonant. Art, in this way, becomes not just expressive—but integrative.
The Cost of Fame and the Pain of Betrayal
Later in his life, Joel experienced another kind of trauma—financial betrayal by those he trusted. His manager and former brother-in-law embezzled millions of dollars, leaving him emotionally and financially devastated.
Betrayal trauma, particularly when it comes from close relationships, can be uniquely disorienting. It shakes a person’s ability to trust not just others, but their own judgment. Many survivors of relational trauma describe this internal destabilization: “Who is safe?” or “Can I even trust myself anymore?”
Joel’s response—suing, firing most of his inner circle, and rebuilding from scratch—wasn’t an act of revenge. It was boundary-setting. It was self-preservation. These are critical steps in trauma recovery: identifying what’s harmful, stepping back from unsafe dynamics, and reclaiming your right to safety and respect.
Holding Pain and Joy Together
Throughout the documentary, what becomes clear is how Joel’s music isn’t just art—it’s his therapy. It’s where his trauma, longing, joy, and vulnerability live safely.
What makes And So It Goes so special is that it doesn’t present a linear healing arc. There’s no grand finale where everything is resolved. Joel remains complicated, reflective, funny, flawed—and fully human. And in that humanity, we see hope.
We see him laughing with friends, doting on his daughters, performing for sold-out crowds at Madison Square Garden, and reflecting with humility on his life. He’s not denying the past. He’s living alongside it. There is something profoundly hopeful in watching Billy Joel now, as he reflects on his life with honesty, humility, and humor.
That’s the heart of post-traumatic growth—not the absence of pain, but the ability to hold both sorrow and joy, to live meaningfully even when life hasn’t been fair. To hold the pain in one hand and joy in the other.
Joel shows us what it looks like to survive without hardening, to heal without pretending the pain never existed.
What We Can Learn from Billy Joel’s Story
Whether you’re a lifelong fan (like me) or someone newly discovering his music, Billy Joel’s journey highlights universal trauma-informed truths:
- Creative expression is a coping skill. Art, music, movement, and writing are not luxuries—they are essential forms of emotional regulation and connection.
- Trauma is not the end of the story. Even after profound pain, it’s possible to find love, purpose, and presence. To find joy.
- You don’t have to do it alone. Safety, trust, and healing relationships—whether personal or professional—are key to recovery.
- There is no deadline for healing. Joel is still learning and growing well into his seventies. So are we all.
What Trauma-Informed Healing Looks Like
Billy Joel’s life mirrors what we support clients in doing every day:
- Building safe, supportive relationships where vulnerability is met with compassion.
- Using creative outlets to process and express what words can’t always reach.
- Practicing self-compassion, especially when shame or self-blame arise.
- Honoring the nonlinear nature of healing, where progress doesn’t always look neat—but is no less real.
We don’t need to be famous to relate. Many are walking the same path—learning to hold our pasts gently, reconnect with ourselves, and rediscover what brings us joy.
Final Thoughts: And So We Go
The documentary’s title, And So It Goes, might sound like resignation. We hear it as something else entirely: quiet resilience. The calm after a storm. The decision to keep moving forward, one note at a time.
At Brickel & Associates, we honor stories like Billy Joel’s not because they are polished or perfect, but because they are honest. His journey reminds us that joy is not the opposite of trauma—it is a part of healing. Even in the aftermath of deep pain, there is space for music, for meaning, for laughter, and for love.
And so it goes.
We’ll continue to explore the intersection of art, healing, and hope for all—because stories matter. Your story matters.
And sometimes, joy is the most powerful song we can sing.
Thank you Billy Joel for all you have given me over the years in your music and now again in your story.
Looking for trauma-informed support? Our practice offers warm, human-centered therapy for individuals, couples, and families navigating the complexities of trauma, grief, anxiety, and relational healing. Reach out—we’re here to walk with you.
