All Things Go
on friendship, rituals, flowers, and the inevitability of change
The first 100 days of this presidency have been gobsmackingly terrible. I think the speed and intensity of the terrible put me into a full blown trauma reaction. It wasn’t that I wasn’t functioning - I was functioning pretty well, actually. But there was no real joy to be found, and I was self-isolating again. I was stuffing down my emotions. I was avoiding things.
I talked about this with both my therapist and my shrink. And both of them were like 🤷♀️🤷♀️🤷♀️
Because what can they say? They’re in the shit too.
We’re all in the shit.
Watching all of this hurt people who are so dear to me is torture, and there’s nothing I can say to make it better. We can’t even come up with the placating bullshit we did in the Before Times. We are left to bear witness to each other’s pain and fear and anxiety, and we just have to be present and let our friends and loved ones know we are there for them. And even then, we know some of us might not make it.
By mid-March, I was starting to go crackers. I was barely getting by. So I did the only thing that made sense.
I booked a trip to Chicago to visit my best friend.
When I fly to Chicago1, I have rituals. One of them is that I must listen to Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois in its entirety2. I have done the flight from LaGuardia to O’Hare so many times that I know the exact moment when we’re in the taxi line to the runway when to start the album. If I hit it just right, the climax of the second track happens as we are taking off (around a minute and 20 seconds in).
It will never get old. It hits my neurodivergence just right.
After the nine business days it takes to exit O’Hare and get in a cab, I arrived at my bestie’s place. As she has a four year old, it has been rare for us to have any alone time, but we had a few hours before we needed to pick up anyone from school.
She ordered me my Chicago favorite - an Italian beef from Portillo’s3 - and we proceeded to have a multi-hour gab fest. My bestie is allergic to the phone, so we had a lot to do conversation wise, since everything had been in text message. Since we both have ADHD, there were plenty of detours to Tangent Town. I loved every second of it. I miss being able to just hang out without an airplane being involved. She used to live down the street from me in Astoria.4
After a brief detour to pick up the niecelet from her Pre-K and get her ready for a fun night with Dad, we were off to our much anticipated Girls Night. We had an overpriced cocktail at a cute bar, and a delicious dinner at a restaurant in the West Loop. We spent way too much money, had too much wine, laughed way too hard, and almost got killed in an Uber5 . In other words, it was very us, as We Are a Lot™6.
The next morning, parents and child had an obligation, so I headed off to have brunch with fellow Substacker
. I love meeting people I connect with online, especially when I know it will be fun. After the initial settling in that always happens when you meet someone IRL for the first time (and an assist from a brunch cocktail), we chatted like old friends. Then we called from the street.A+ first ever Substack meetup, 10/10.
After my lovely brunch, I met back up with my bestie and we headed out to see a Cubs game at Wrigley, with the husband and four year old in tow. After a few misadventures, we got to the ballpark in one piece. This was my niece’s first baseball game, and she was a champ. In fact, she held up better than the adults, as Wrigley Field is A LOT even on its quietest day. We managed to make it to the 6th inning!
There was only one mini-meltdown on the train home. I came up with the idea that she should find a flower for every color of the rainbow, and we could collect them and make an offering to the Fairy Tree. It was a good distraction.
The next day, the grown ups were weary from battling the drunken hoardes at Wrigley, so we decided to keep it “low key”. As you learn from Auntie Duty, there is no such thing as low key with a four year old. We had brunch, went to the toy store, got ice cream, and made trips to multiple parks and playgrounds. In total, I think we were out for more than five hours. The weather was insanely good - 60s, sunny, cloudless. My face got a little sunburned. WORTH IT.
While I don’t have children of my own, I love being an Auntie, especially the part when you buy them some nonsense at the toy store that you low-key want for yourself. That means you get an excuse to play with the toys AND the kid likes you more. It’s a win-win (except maybe for your bank account).
The great thing about little kids is that they can find fun wherever they go. She was on a mission to collect dandelions. Not just any dandelions, the fluffiest dandelions. She put them all in the little trunk compartment on her tricycle (that she is rapidly outgrowing).
Satisfied with her haul, she laid them all on the ground, admiring her treasures.
As I watched her living her best life, I realized that the President and his merry band of assholes don’t live rent free in her tiny head. And, for the first time in a long time, I spent most of that day not thinking about him at all. I was thinking about flowers, and fairies, and what kind of food we were going to get later on. I was thinking about how this was maybe the most beautiful Spring day I’d ever experienced.
The adults once again got tired before the child, so we went back to my friend’s apartment to relax and have some dinner. I read my niece a book and helped her get all tucked in for sleep, and then got to spend a little more (but not enough) time with her mom before we called it a night, as I had an early flight the next morning.
It was a good weekend.
I don’t know if it was the much needed girl time, the Vitamin D from the sunshine, or the fact that I logged some pretty serious hours of sleep, but I came home feeling much better than I did when I left.
I felt like I was back on track, at least mentally. I got home from work the other night and did a 20 minute Peloton ride, just to get back into the habit. I hopped into the shower and put a few drops of lavender oil in the tub so it smelled nice.
I started thinking about how much fun I had, how much my niece has grown, and how I still wish my best friend lived closer. She moved away almost 15 years ago, so I am used to only seeing her once or twice a year. But I miss her anyway. I miss being able to just go to her apartment with a bottle of wine, unannounced. I miss the fun we used to have, even when it was a total shit show. I miss being able to not have to explain anything when I’m upset, because she immediately understands. It makes me sad that I missed the birth of her daughter and the whole first year of her life because of stupid fucking COVID.
Then it happened.
I LOST IT.
I went from wistful to Ugly Cry in 2.5 seconds. The sobs wracked my body so hard that I had to crouch, holding my knees, waiting for when I could stand again. I let the water wash over me as I cried, and cried, and cried some more. It hurt. I felt pain, the kind of pain that forces your body to heave and shudder, that feels so unbearable that the only remedy is to wail.
There’s a grief that comes with aging, and seeing your friends age. It’s not so much a grief for your youth, although I wish I could borrow a half a cup of a four year old’s energy. It’s not even about being scared of dying, or feeling like you are running out of time. It’s not even being sad about that weird thing that’s happening to your neck. I think it’s the knowledge that everything changes, no matter how hard you try to stop it from changing. That everything ends.
I let myself feel the grief, and the missing. And it wasn’t just about her. It was about everything I’ve lost, and everyone and everything else that I miss. The older you get, the more cumulative those losses are. They are etched into your bones, and with every passing year, you feel the ache. And, once in a while, it’s excruciating.
We are all grieving. We are all hurting. We are all missing someone, or something. We We are all holding back our sorrow and our rage and our sadness, just to get through the days. We’ve all been doing that for far too long. So, when the good moments come, we want them to last.
The good things in life are fleeting- dandelions, ice cream cones, great weekends. In these times, it feels almost unbearable when the good things don’t last.
But the bad moments don’t last, either. And neither do bad people.
Tyrants always fall.
Look at the course of history, and you’ll see that it’s true. Regimes like this do not last forever. It could take months, years, or decades. It could be through uprising, through luck, or through something else I haven’t thought of. But one thing I do know - every human being on this earth has limited time. He is not immortal.
That’s all I’ve got sometimes. Sometimes that one truth gets me through. So, if you are struggling, if you are hurting, if you feel like there is no hope - I see you, I honor your feelings, and I give you permission to go Ugly Cry in the shower. It’s hard to be a human right now.
But, I promise - you won’t feel like this forever.
All things go
All things go
One day, I will write about my history with Chicago. New York is my marriage, but Chicago is my long-term side piece.
One of the greatest of all time, in my opinion. And, terrifyingly, 20 years old this year.
I know there are other Italian Beef places, but Portillo’s is still my favorite.
She lived down the block from me from 2004-2009, and then moved to Chicago for law school.
We didn’t actually almost get killed, but as we were pulling out, someone cut our driver off and he had to slam on the brakes. My bestie didn’t have her seatbelt on yet and she definitely flew into the back of the driver’s seat. Fortunately, we were going about 10 mph if that, so other than a headache the next day and a sore neck, she was spared the worst of it. A concussion would have REALLY ruined the weekend.
We are both naturally loud, and when we get together, we get even louder. The two of us have been shushed in restaurants all over the Eastern Seaboard.
The only thing I really dislike about aging is the cumulative losses. I didn’t have that before age 25 and it’s only been 8 years since then. How bad will it get in 10 years even?
So glad Chicago treated you well, it was an honor to be part of it (thanks for the disclaimer about our glowing expressions, we are still full of raaaggge!) Your Sufjan ritual is fabulous. And a major ugly cry sounds like a mighty stress release. Looking forward to an espresso martini when things are better…all things go, all things go. ♥️