ST.Carrie Underwood Delivers the Ultimate Breakup Energy in Her Studio Performance of ‘Hate My Heart’

When Carrie Underwood stepped into the studio to record “Hate My Heart,” she didn’t hold back. You can feel every bit of heartbreak, frustration, and fierce independence packed into every line. This isn’t a quiet love song; it’s the kind of track you blast in your room when you’re mad, sad, and ready to move on all at the same time. Carrie’s powerhouse voice makes it feel like she’s standing right next to you yelling your feelings out loud so you don’t have to.

Watching Carrie record “Hate My Heart” in the studio is like peeking behind the curtain of what makes her so iconic. She’s not just singing; she’s feeling every word. You see her laughing with her band, stomping her boots and throwing that classic Carrie sass into every note. The energy is real, the guitars are loud, and every chorus hits you right in the gut. 

Fans love “Hate My Heart” because it feels so relatable. The comments are full of people saying, “This is exactly how I feel!” and “Carrie’s voice is my therapy.” It’s the kind of song that makes you feel less alone when you’re stuck on someone you know you should be over. And watching her sing it in the studio makes you want to scream the chorus right back at her.

Once you’re done belting out “Hate My Heart,” you’ve got to follow it up with “Before He Cheats.” It’s Carrie’s most legendary breakup revenge song, the one that made you all want to grab our keys and slash a few tires (in our heads, anyway!).

Carrie Underwood – Before He Cheats (Live From The Today Show)

“Before He Cheats” is the ultimate girl-power breakup song. Fans still scream every word at concerts, in the car, or anywhere they need a reminder that heartbreak doesn’t have to break you. Together with “Hate My Heart,” it shows that Carrie knows precisely how to turn pain into power.

Want more behind-the-scenes clips and powerhouse songs? Follow Carrie on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, and Twitter for sneak peeks, tour moments, and stories that show she’s still the country’s boldest storyteller.

She’s been fighting cancer since 13, and at 19 she’s refusing to stop hoping.jj

Nineteen is supposed to feel limitless.

It’s supposed to be loud playlists, late nights, big plans, and the quiet certainty that there’s time for everything. For Lulu Ivy, nineteen has always meant something different. It has meant endurance. It has meant grit learned far too young. It has meant waking up every day and choosing to fight again.

She was just thirteen when doctors first spoke the word that split her world in two: osteosarcoma. An aggressive bone cancer. The kind that doesn’t knock politely. The kind that demands everything from a body that’s still growing. That timeline alone tells you something about Lulu—she’s been battling longer than most people can imagine.

And yet, anyone who knows her will tell you the same thing first: Lulu is gentle. She’s a sweet soul. She loves Taylor Swift and the warmth of vinyl records spinning in a quiet room. She knows WWE storylines by heart and cried real tears when John Cena retired. She gets lost in Marvel worlds where heroes fall, rise, and fight again—stories that feel a little too familiar.

She wants to live to enjoy all of it.

Her fight has never been easy. Radiation. Chemotherapy. In 2020, surgeons removed her pelvic bone in a last-ditch effort to stop the disease. It’s a sentence that doesn’t feel real when you read it, let alone live it. But Lulu endured. She held on. She adapted to a body that had been asked to survive the unimaginable.

Five years after her diagnosis, she crossed a stage at Hillcrest High School in Tuscaloosa. May 2025. Cap and gown. A milestone many never reach after a diagnosis like hers. That moment wasn’t just a graduation—it was a declaration. Lulu was still here.

Then came the news that no one ever prepares for.

One year ago, doctors found that the cancer was back. This time, it had spread. Tumors wrapped around her spinal cord, tangled in a place surgeons couldn’t reach. Inoperable. The word lands heavy. It steals the air from the room.

Most people would crumble.

Lulu didn’t.

She dug in again. Chemotherapy returned. Fifteen rounds of radiation followed. Each one a test of endurance, patience, and faith. Now, another cycle of chemo is set to begin next Monday. The hope is simple and enormous all at once: that the tumors will shrink. That time will stretch a little longer. That there will be room for more music, more stories, more ordinary days.

Next month, she’ll travel back to MD Anderson in Houston for scans and checkups—those tense hours when lives hang on images and measurements. Until then, it’s treatment, rest, and crossing fingers for news that allows her to keep moving forward.

Lulu doesn’t ask for much. She doesn’t posture as a hero. She doesn’t pretend this is easy. She just keeps showing up. Again. And again. And again.

Her strength isn’t loud. It’s quiet and constant. It’s found in the way she clings to the things she loves, the way she still plans for tomorrow, the way she hopes despite having every reason to be tired.

Right now, she needs something simple but powerful: to know she’s not fighting alone.

To know that strangers are thinking of her, rooting for her, believing with her. That somewhere beyond hospital walls and treatment rooms, people are holding her name in their hearts.

Nineteen should be about discovering who you are.

For Lulu Ivy, it’s also about proving—once again—that even in the face of impossible odds, the human spirit can still choose hope.

And that matters more than words can say.