With all of the fun that the rediscovery of country has brought to my life, I am not 21. And the past few years have FELT nothing like college. 2022 has sounded much more like a good, rich, hard, wanting, hurting Adele ballad. The tones have felt big. Heavy. Right. But, oh, so hard. This self-love week cannot be fully sung without a big one. One that holds the reflection and truth. Adele, you are the grown-up badass. And you have taught me to be ok with not having it figured out.
“I hope I learn to get over myself. Stop trying to be somebody else. So we can love each other for free. Everybody wants something, you just want me.”
There are many of her songs that could hold this spot. I actually had to choose from 3 and the lyrics to this chorus sealed the deal. That’s the kind of big grief that it takes to grieve a life defining relationship. And that’s the most accurate label for my relationship with the divine. Humans are a completely different song.
This is where I might just surprise one or two of you. Adele is the answer to my forest fire. You remember the girl on fire? She is cool as shit. But she also has a tendency to be a out of control. Her flames are a bit wild when she throws the passion of a fight song on the hurt. This year has gifted me the ability to be Adele and Blue October. Most days its a crap shoot as to which one wants to come out to play, but it’s my choice. The best part of the growth is that the only thing that goes into that decision is what I need. On that day. Because tomorrow will be different. Hell, an hour from now will be different, let’s be honest.
Adele, can I just write a love note to you? OK, thanks…
Thanks for giving me the grown up words that speak truth and don’t back down from the hard. Thanks for not having it together and at the very same time, SO TOGETHER. Thank you for reminding me that you can’t fight fire with fire. Your songs tell me everyday that the only way through some of the hurt is soft and tender. And that’s good. You are still a boss, especially when you cry.
While Adele has been massaging the callous off my heart, my therapist has reminded me about safe circles. And my inner-inner-most circle is so small. Every time I think I have made peace with the changing responsibilities of a centered life, I begin to panic that I have made that circle too small. And then I am reminded. The only person I need in my inner circle is me. The others that are present are there because I trust them. Trust is hard when you have new legs. Ones that have been rebuilt because your joints have deteriorated. Ones that have not held weight. You’ve seen them on a baby animal. A giraffe or deer. They wobble. They don’t know quite how to use the muscles. That’s me and Adele-feels. But I’m over here with knocky knees and very strong reflexes. So it’s probably a good thing that I test market my soft in safe circles. Like other rage-ers. They seem to tolerate me and my need to move from tears to punching in .03 seconds. These undercover softies are my people.
I’m looking at you, LSO…