Issue #78: Songs for a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
We'll get through this together.
Written by
. Edited by .A few weeks ago, Sam and I got some difficult news about my fertility. It followed a series of painful procedures to try and restore my ability to get pregnant again one day — a personal battle that feels all too intertwined with our nation’s conversation around reproductive rights and bodily autonomy.
We’d already planned a date night, but as much as I usually love checking out a new restaurant or wine bar, sitting across the table from each other while we searched for anything to talk about other than my reproductive journey didn’t sound reviving. “What about some live music?” I asked as I ran out the door to do some errands.
Two minutes later, I had a text from Sam: “Kacey Musgraves is at TD Garden tonight.” We quickly texted back and forth, comparing resale ticket prices, before snatching up two seats on the lower level. A few hours later, we were saying goodnight to our babysitters (Sam’s parents) and heading downtown. It felt like fate.
“I’m going to cry during this show,” I told Sam as we walked up to the stadium. “I need this kind of crying. Just let it happen.”
Nestled up next to him in my own bubble towards the back right corner of the 19,000-person arena, I sang and hummed. I cheered when Follow Your Arrow started. My eyes welled with tears during Space Cowboy, a song that will always remind me of a summer weekend, driving down a tree-lined road with the windows down and my best friends squeezed together, belting out the words.
The night wore on, and Kacey still hadn’t played Rainbow, a song I closely associate with my miscarriage earlier this year. (Kacey intended the song as an anthem for the LGBTQ+ community; it’s transcended into a message of hope for anyone in going through dark times.)
“This is going to be my last song of the night,” Kacey said as the first notes played. My chest tightened and tears began rolling down my cheeks before the words even began.
“When it rains, it pours…” she sang.
One of the hardest parts of the past nine months has been finding ways to experience happiness in the midst of profound grief. Watching and cheering on Harris’ short campaign, I was hopeful — even buying flights (that I’ve since canceled) to Washington, DC for the inauguration. I didn’t know how I’d handle another Donald Trump victory. I thought this outcome would break me. I thought it would crush me.
And yet, I’m still standing — at least, as close as I can get right now, wrapped in a towel after a long hot shower and sitting at my kitchen table as I write you these words.
Throughout my fertility journey, music has been a portal, letting me access many — often contradictory — emotions simultaneously. Sadness. Joy. Fear. Anger. Optimism. I’ve been compiling a list of songs, like Rainbow, that open this door.
Kacey concludes, “Yeah, there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head… It’ll all be alright.” The lights dim, she fades into darkness.
This week, we experienced enormous, disturbing, monumental grief. I didn’t expect to share this playlist1 for this purpose, but I’m hoping maybe you’ll find comfort and catharsis in it too.
Will you tell us your sad day songs?
Like, really fucking sad and miserable songs. Hopeful songs. Uplifting songs. “Scream-in-your-car-with-the-windows-down” songs. What do you listen to when you’re having your worst day? We’ll make one massive playlist and share it next week.
Thanks for being here. Sending you hugs and love.
If you enjoy reading Platonic Love each week, there are a few ways to let us know: “like” this post, leave a comment, buy us a coffee, or upgrade to a Paid subscription. Thanks for your support!
Which Aja has added to as well :)
During my fertility treatments last year, I listened to the song “August” by Taylor Swift often on the way to the clinic, specifically for the line “living for the hope of it all”. It became my mantra to keep going through the fear and heartache. Our sweet IVF baby was born this summer and his name is August ❤️
Thank you for sharing. I had a similar experience at a Brandi Carlile concert after a miscarriage a few years ago (Song: The Mother. AHHH). It almost felt too painful to listen, but as I continued to move through the song -- listening, crying, wiping snot away, thinking -- I felt more and more powerful. I had been through something terribly hard, and I was here, and I was going to experience other hard things, and I would be ok. I hope you are feeling ok as well.
Now, as for songs! I've been working on my angry chicks playlist, affectionately titled "Fuck 'Em". The cornerstone tunes are "Fuck You" by Lily Allen, and "Bad Girls" by M.I.A. Here's to finding strength and joy through music!