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valkryorWe went, last night, to see Amanda Palmer perform at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Toronto. I almost didn't go because there was a massive snafu with the babysitting arrangements, but the original babysitter, who double-booked herself, found an alternate (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
carolep.livejournal.com) and everything worked out great. Declan had a grand old time, by all accounts, and actually went to bed on time and stayed there.
There are so many little things that happened that seem inconsequential now, like missing dinner (whoops), and not getting anything signed (she wasn't signing, which didn't surprise me at all given the performance). I am, right now, exhausted and drained. If I was talking in terms of spoons, I would be borrowing into next Thursday to get through today.
The show was... cathartic. Intimate and amazing and there were funny parts and some that were really not funny at all. She told so many stories, stories about love and loss and compassion and empathy and how, sometimes, you can't win no matter what you do. And I cried. Holy fuck, did I cry. Mostly, I cried because of Shannon; even fourteen years on, I miss the baby that I lost so much I have this grief hangover for days afterwards.
And if those of us in the audience were put through the ringer, I have no idea the toll it's going to take on Amanda, to tear herself open, to show her soul, her patchwork heart, to bleed all over that stage night after night.
I know, that after Shannon had died, I wanted to stop talking to people about it. I was bleeding out and nothing was healing and I was desperate for a little scar tissue to make the hurt a little less. I cannot imagine doing it for 18 months (the length of the tour) for the enjoyment of others. If she makes it out alive, that is some superhuman shit right there.
The things she talked about, told us about: abortion, miscarriage, death, and how we're expected, especially as women, to just go one with our lives like nothing happened and everything is fine when we're broken and hurting on the inside. It is profound the pressure that we put on ourselves and how we police each other. It struck me, on the way home, that we don't TALK about these things. We don't post on Facebook that we're going in for an abortion in the morning or that the fetus has died in utero and we are going to miscarry in a couple of days.
We just don't. We keep it small, keep it secret, ashamed that we don't want the baby or our bodies betrayed us. We don't throw abortion showers or wakes for the miscarried; those are women's woes, punishment for eating from the Tree in the Garden, and no one wants to know. These are things that happen to us, they are part of our narrative, and we need to start talking about the shit we live through. No one else can tell our story and maybe, somewhere, there's someone who really needs to hear that you made it through the other side.
Because maybe the point is to not feel so alone.
carolep.livejournal.com) and everything worked out great. Declan had a grand old time, by all accounts, and actually went to bed on time and stayed there.There are so many little things that happened that seem inconsequential now, like missing dinner (whoops), and not getting anything signed (she wasn't signing, which didn't surprise me at all given the performance). I am, right now, exhausted and drained. If I was talking in terms of spoons, I would be borrowing into next Thursday to get through today.
The show was... cathartic. Intimate and amazing and there were funny parts and some that were really not funny at all. She told so many stories, stories about love and loss and compassion and empathy and how, sometimes, you can't win no matter what you do. And I cried. Holy fuck, did I cry. Mostly, I cried because of Shannon; even fourteen years on, I miss the baby that I lost so much I have this grief hangover for days afterwards.
And if those of us in the audience were put through the ringer, I have no idea the toll it's going to take on Amanda, to tear herself open, to show her soul, her patchwork heart, to bleed all over that stage night after night.
I know, that after Shannon had died, I wanted to stop talking to people about it. I was bleeding out and nothing was healing and I was desperate for a little scar tissue to make the hurt a little less. I cannot imagine doing it for 18 months (the length of the tour) for the enjoyment of others. If she makes it out alive, that is some superhuman shit right there.
The things she talked about, told us about: abortion, miscarriage, death, and how we're expected, especially as women, to just go one with our lives like nothing happened and everything is fine when we're broken and hurting on the inside. It is profound the pressure that we put on ourselves and how we police each other. It struck me, on the way home, that we don't TALK about these things. We don't post on Facebook that we're going in for an abortion in the morning or that the fetus has died in utero and we are going to miscarry in a couple of days.
We just don't. We keep it small, keep it secret, ashamed that we don't want the baby or our bodies betrayed us. We don't throw abortion showers or wakes for the miscarried; those are women's woes, punishment for eating from the Tree in the Garden, and no one wants to know. These are things that happen to us, they are part of our narrative, and we need to start talking about the shit we live through. No one else can tell our story and maybe, somewhere, there's someone who really needs to hear that you made it through the other side.
Because maybe the point is to not feel so alone.
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Date: 2019-03-23 03:23 pm (UTC)- Judy Blume (she opened with this)
- Bigger on the Inside
- The Thing about Things
- Runs in the Family
- Part of Your World (yes, the one from the Little Mermaid - I laughed so hard I was crying)
- A Mother's Confession (I lost it here)
- Voicemail for Jill
- Oasis
- Drowning in the Sound
- The Ride
- Let It Go (yes, the one from Frozen - it works, okay)
- Machete
- Death Thing (closed with this, if memory serves)
Plus, there were so many stories. The things that she had lived through and the times when she felt alone until she talked about what was going on and had someone else say, "I know what you're going through." Powerful stuff, all of it.
The one that really sticks with me is the one she told about being pregnant (after having Ash) and was really excited and happy until the ultrasound revealed that the baby had no heartbeat and would be miscarried. This happened two days before Christmas. Fuck. Sure, Neil's family (who they were hosting) knew, but you still have to be happy and joyous because of the time of year and I would have locked myself away and cried for days.
After, she went to a yoga retreat where she had booked a pregnancy massage at 7 am. And she was dreading it, knowing that the fetus was not viable. The masseuse was ready and Amanda told her what was happening with her body. The masseuse broke down because she had a miscarriage herself only a few days before and was dreading this. Amanda felt that, for two hours, someone was looking after her.