This was for her Pt 1
What was meant to be a concert round up is now a not-so-quick trauma dump
The weekend before last we visited Sydney for two concerts.
Saturday night was a frenzy of metalcore as Polaris whipped the crowd into a circle pit of insanity before we were devastated by Linkin Park, followed by a gloriously whimsical Sunday night with Peach PRC as she sung us her songs from her, as yet, unreleased debut album.
Two very different concerts. Two incredible nights. Two moments which, somehow created the perfect weekend.
Two perfect parts of a whole. Much like the parts of myself who the weekend seemed to truly be for in the end. For my inner teen(s) this was everything.
The girl who once was— the teen self who gave up those years to responsibilities that weren’t hers, angry, used and desperate to belong— she was there.
The girl who never was— the teen self hidden so far amongst the shadows, behind the expectations and pushed down by the beliefs of others that I didn’t even know she existed until my 30’s— she was there, too.
I didn’t grow up in a home devoid of music— quite the opposite. It was a constant. And yet the defining moment of discovering Linkin Park had to be hidden in quiet late night listens or stolen moments when it was just my younger brothers and I from a scratchy cassette of badly taped songs off the radio. Squirrelled away with the Korn and Limp Bizkit CDs behind the books in the daylight.
Now, I wonder how those two parts of my teen self didn’t meet in the inky darkness of hiding, pushed together in the corners where nobody looks.
I remember hearing ‘One Step Closer’ for the first time. Somehow, the music video managed to play through on our television without it being thrown out. I was enthralled instantly. My dad, just as quickly, declared them evil noise and that was that. I would not be at all surprised if it did, in fact, bring on another spate of ‘television free time’ that we often ‘enjoyed’.
I was ushered back to my DC Talk CDs to listen to decent Christian men (looking specifically at you right now, Michael Tait) sing about our amazing, loving and forgiving god.
These days, I have no clue why I’ve come into the kitchen but I can still recite every bit of every song on Jesus Freak. Hallelujah.
And, I’m not going to lie and pretend I didn’t love the music. I did. There was just something missing. I wasn’t being drawn in, I didn’t feel what everyone else around me felt. No, I enjoyed the fun yet was left completely hollow. Those needs were met by the seemingly evil noise.
Surrounded by musicians meant they’d shake their heads and mutter about the screaming. The rapping. It wasn’t music.
To me, though, it was life. Chester’s guttural cries and Mike’s deep rhymes were everything holed up inside me that I could never get out, music shifting into fingers that could reach into my chest, splitting my ribs open and letting my heart bleed.
Even if for a moment.
Before I’d return to praying that What if I Stumble might start to mean more to me than just an enjoyable ear experience.
So, with two literal teens, two inner teens and a husband I finally lived a dream.
My heart was in my throat as it began. 26 years is a long time to build up expectations and preconceived ideas. Especially when the initial soul that drew you in is gone.
The reality of the absence of Chester was a gut punch. As my youngest daughter said “I know he died, but I just kind of expected he would be there.” Which perfectly summed it up. I knew he wouldn’t be there and yet…
I had wondered, would that past mean girl in me hate the change when faced with it in real time? A girl replaced Chester? Eww. I mean, I had once believed the whispers breathed into my ear. Girls were problematic. You couldn’t trust them, they were going to betray you. Get you in trouble. Probably lead you to bite a forbidden apple and curse a whole world.
So, as a teenager, I couldn’t relate to most of them. I thought I was simply different (Not like other girls ✌🏼😝), a tom boy at heart and certainly lucky to miss the drama.
I held the shame of having been born female close and secret. Sucked it into my soul when those whispers met the parts of my mind that breathed back ‘what about me?’.
I was treated differently to my brothers. More was expected whilst I was also conditioned to BE and become less.
I hid from the world and myself with baggy clothes, low sitting caps and an active dislike of all things girl. Because, I didn’t want to engage in that bitchy life. I didn’t want to end up betrayed and hurt.
I didn’t want to feel the exclusion even more.
However, I was immediately completely and utterly besotted with Emily. Her energy. How she soldiered through even though she was still unwell. I loved how she ran around making a menace of herself. Skipping about before jumping on everything.
The girl who never was, she felt seen and accepted as I fell in love with a random woman as she screamed at me (only me, obvs, not the whole arena).
His absence was raw and overwhelming. I was crushed to have never seen them in the before.
Yet, there was an overall feeling that Chester was being honoured. Space was held. Emily was an addition, not a replacement.
For one night, I was broken and healed in the same breath. Destroyed and whole in a single moment.
Honestly, it’s lucky I’ve never been struck with feminine ways because otherwise I might have been dramatic about this whole thing.
Part 2 (coming soon)
If you love concert videos, feel free to watch my terribly shot hour long video dump from the night (I don’t edit, just put it all together and upload incase I never do anything else with it. A true masterpiece).