Rise Against – My pinhole of light

I went to my first concert since The Before Times. The Menzingers, Descendents, and Rise Against.

It was a privilege being able to see the godfathers of punk rock! They were very good, and I was not disappointed.

We did miss The Mezingers so no commentary on them, sorry.

Rise Against has always been a band that I liked, have some songs on my spotify playlists. They have a few songs that have a pretty deep meaning for me. They’ve never been on my “top 10 favorite bands ever”. But I still enjoy their music.

Something happened at that show, though. Something amazing. There are some very specific ingredients I need to really enjoy a show. Awesome sound and to be able to FEEL the music, great energy, and heart. Rise Against beyond delivered in all three categories.

It was so compelling and comforting how human the band was. We all, as a WORLD, have suffered a trauma. There were many that didn’t make it, 4.27 million and counting have died from Covid 19. That number does not include the number of suicides, complications from covid long haulers, or people that have died due to medical neglect because of covid (hospitals being full, lack of available equipment, not being able to see the dr. on time for cancer diagnosis, etc).

There were several points where Tim, the singer, stopped and connected with the audience. Not in the typical “Hello Atlanta.” But more like, “Hello fellow survivors. I see you; I felt the pain you felt and still feel, and I feel the hope that you so desperately need right now that this is going to really end.”

Seeing that I’m not the only one that’s wrecked from all that has happened, that we really were all part of this shared trauma made me feel a little normal. It gave me permission to grieve for those I’ve lost and for the last year and half that so much of my life has been upheaved and on hold.

We all suffered some sort of loss over the last year and half, some more than others.

The human connection they made with the audience and more specifically me was exactly what my soul needed. Being a creative person through this has been absolute hell. I haven’t been able to write anything worth a damn. Between crippling depression, a life interrupted, family problems, and work; it has been impossible to really create. I think this pandemic hit creatives much harder with our pretty little butterfly souls that just want to love and create. It changed us. It disappointed us. We had no choice but to take off our rose-colored glasses and see the ugly world for what it is.

With all the creatives largely being unable to create the world became an even darker place. I watched as many of my writing colleagues crumbled into the same pile of darkness I’ve been living in. We’re all struggling to get out. We’re all struggling to continue to create, some are doing amazing, and I want to be like them. Elaine Barris, Monica LaPorta, Jennifer Armentrout…I’m looking at you. I’m watching, I see you and I’m inspired by your ability to move through this with grace and beauty.

But that show last night feels like a game changer for me on so many levels. The band played a few songs they wrote during the pandemic. The Numbers – WOW, just WOW. If that song doesn’t embody so much of American life over the last 18 months, I don’t know what does. Broken Dreams, Inc. felt like a commentary on what we’ve gone through as a nation with #BLM, the election and the pandemic.

It was all so profound and provocative.

But the human piece, the connection piece. That was what really lead my heart at the show. As some of you may know I lost a very dear friend less than two weeks ago. He died from suicide. My heart still aches and likely will for the rest of my life. But its raw right now. It’s lurking beneath the surface pushing against my need to hold it together for everyone else. Even though, now, I’m home things are settled, and I have permission to let it out, I’m having trouble. It’s skulking just below the surface of my calmish exterior.

This was my second funeral in July, the first another “adopted” family member. He also died from suicide.

In February, my dear friend’s son also died from suicide.

Last night I was lead deep into thought and healthy grief with the loving hands of music created by the artists on the stage. I sobbed for our world and those that will never know the wonderful people that were in such a dark place, they felt as though there were only one way out. I sobbed for families of others who may, at this moment, be in that same dark place. I pray that they will reach out. There are no clear symptoms or signs anymore. We’re all still living in this fog of regret and pain caused by the lack of humanity our world has exhibited over the last 18 months.

Last night I sobbed because I was among humans, and it was okay to let it out. It was safe.

The band was amazing in the care it took with the audience. There was a young boy on the front row holding artwork he had created for the band. Tim stopped the show and took time to not only acknowledge the boy, but to show all of us what he had created. I felt special just being part of that exhilarating moment that will live long into that boy’s life. He will never forget that special moment and I got to be part of that.

I was part of Tim’s own admissions of his struggles with the pandemic and he acknowledged everyone else’s. It was the first time in a long time that I truly felt that we were all in this together.

So, to the band, Rise Against, I thank you for helping me feel when I’ve been so afraid of my own emotions. Thank you for giving me hope and being the light that we all need right now.

Be kind. Be good. Be understanding and don’t forget to carpe the fuck out of every diem.

Now I’m going to go and hug my babies, do some laundry, and then get to writing. I’ve got some books to write now, and I’m going to do it.