A few weeks ago I had the immense privilege of seeing Taylor Swift perform for the first time in Stockholm, Sweden. Her performances took place at The Friends Arena which was attached to a large shopping centre and hotel. Before the show, the mall was a glitter-filled, bustling, wonderland with a DJ spinning Taylor tunes in a Starbucks, and a Swiftie karaoke session in the food hall.
Upon walking into the mall and hearing the music, I enjoyed a lovely, silly moment where one of my fellow Swifites and I began singing along at the same time, causing a fit of giggles to erupt. Friendship bracelets coiled up our arms as we traded and chatted with enthusiasm. During the concert, one woman—having seen that I was representing the Red Era and having heard that my favourite song was the ten-minute version of All Too Well—gifted me a hand-knitted scarf bracelet; which has quickly become one of my favourite memories from the day.
When the concert ended and 65 000 people exited the arena, it was a sea of glittering bodies, moving slowly towards the metro station. A very kind, an incredibly warm, and wonderfully diverse sea of humans who, although clearly frustrated with the lack of forward momentum, treated each other with much human decency and respect.
I don’t feel particularly capable of pin-pointing the exact reason why Taylor Swift has become such a global sensation (perhaps look to someone enrolled in this course for that) but I do believe that the culture she has fostered has played a big role. Here is a woman who at a young age, wrote and sang about her feelings with wild abandon. A woman who grew up in the public eye and wrote songs about love, heart-ache, longing, and pain. A woman who has admittedly struggled with friendships, and relationships, and yet continues to show up, and continues to make music.
When Rupi Kaur was doing her worldwide poetry tour, I attended it as well; and she said something that really stuck with me. She said (and I’m paraphrasing here) that oftentimes when a group of young women are wildly passionate about something it is automatically assumed to be frivolous. I found the comment to be startlingly accurate and also incredibly infuriating! The truth of it sparked a Barbie pink rebellion in me and I felt it (and continue to feel it) deep in my body. It made me want to shout from the rooftops that feelings are never frivolous! Feelings are healing. Sharing feelings in community is even more healing! Being on the receiving end of music and art packed with heaps of emotion is exactly why I continue to listen to, and am completely enamoured with, Ms. Swift’s music.
I could carry on about the misogyny of it all, but I will spare you my ranting and instead return to details of my trip. Prior to my adventures in Sweden, I spent a week visiting with long-distance friends in The Netherlands. Some who had settled there after living abroad (which is when we met) and one who travelled from Paris to see me (who I met in an online support group). It was a trip filled with lush, abundant connection. With time spent wandering around markets and choosing the perfect trinkets. Walks along the vast, seemingly endless beaches that border the churning North Sea. Slow, leisurely breakfasts filled with thoughtful conversation. Hand-holding during moments of tenderness while viewing the timeliest of art. Filling our hearts and our bellies with the most decadent treats during a fanciful high tea; and basking in every tiny pocket of time that felt like pure unadulterated magic. Needless to say, upon leaving Europe, my heart felt infinitely full and wonderfully immense.
However, upon returning to Canada I fell into a common pattern of behaviour, which was reaching out to people who I know deep down won’t be able to give me what I need; and then wallowing in the overwhelming feelings of rejection. I now realize that after my abundant, connection-filled trip, I was simply longing for something similar from friendships that feel as though they are fading away.
The reality is that sometimes friendships fall apart in a fury, sometimes they ghost out slowly, and sometimes they are wonderfully enduring. It’s extremely challenging when endings begin to harden our once treasured memories. Like a technicolour centre fading into a cracked sepia tint. It can be hard to know how to sit with the confusion of it all. The way that some memories can feel tender with warmth and pain at the same time.
And then, in the same way that I can cry in the bath tub and be held by the tender cadence of folklore, there are some friendships that hold you in a completely different way than others. I refer to these friends as my Soul Sisters; and when I reached out to one of them about my struggles upon returning from my travels, she held me—with her words, with her reassurance, with her reminders of past moments of strength—in that special way that only sisters are able to do.
There is something profoundly powerful when you find yourself surrounded by women who are determined to be on your side. Who are capable of meeting you where you are at, and who show up for you time and time again. When I first began my recovery I can recall the terror I felt at the prospect of having to do group therapy with a bunch of other women. Groups of women terrified me and rightfully so given my history, but over time something began to shift. My interactions with women changed. I changed. I found a deep well of healing and ultimately it was a community of women who led me there.
There is also something profoundly powerful about a group of sparkling humans gathering together to exchange friendship bracelets, dance like they are twenty-two, and celebrate with a talented musician who has showcased so gorgeously, the wondrous and often confusing paradox that is womanhood. Which we know, is not frivolous at all.
Hi! My name is Catherine and I love exploring the vast landscape of human feeling and the small every day moments of mental health recovery. I also write poetry and prose about my own personal journey of healing.
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All at once feeling the joy and tenderness reading this <3
I felt so held by this piece. I'm in a weird transitional space lately, and I'm really glad I have you and your writing in my life.