Something Funny
On slowing down, plus my top ten artists of the year
The Sunday Letter #41
Nearly everyone I’ve talked to lately seems to be going through it. We all collectively need a breather, some respite from the overwhelm, and the only thing I’m sure of is that at least we’re going through it together.
I have this habit of thinking that just because I can articulate my negative thinking patterns, that means I have them under control. There are things that shake that sense of control loose, however—chief among them significant life changes (and 2023 was chock full of them). There’s something funny about those of us who grew up thriving on chaos; for us, stability can feel ominous and stifling. As the dust settled in the fall, we settled in and the days got shorter, and I suddenly found myself existentially dreadful in a deeper way than I had been in awhile.
When I got the call that I finally had an appointment for an ADHD assessment, after waiting for nearly three years, I was so sure that I had it all under control that I almost cancelled it. Not wanting to waste that time on the waitlist, and worried I may need accommodations in the future, I decided to do the assessment anyway.
As I’ve written about before, I’ve already been working on the assumption that I had it, but it was unexpectedly very validating to actually have the diagnosis confirmed. It was surreal, though, to go from waiting for years in limbo to starting medication within a week. And it’s funny, the imposter syndrome in my brain was like, “Maybe you just tricked her into believing you actually have ADHD,” as though I hadn’t been rambling at the psychiatrist and losing my train of thought with each question. As though I hadn’t been in a pretty vicious ADHD cycle of avoidance and shame, covered up by the classic sheen of perfectionism.
So, here we are. I was hesitant to start medication again, after tapering off SSRI’s for anxiety last year and dealing with some pretty brutal brain “zaps,” which are exactly as bizarre as they sound. But after chatting with a few friends about their experiences, I feel hopeful and curious, excited about a different kind of future fuelled less by dread and more by self-acceptance. My husband keeps reminding me that the medication is just an experiment for now, nothing’s permanent. So I’m leaning into it.
I’m also letting myself slow down, something I haven’t done often enough this year. Too often, ADHD makes rest feel like failure, especially if it’s not “productive” rest. While ADHD can be a propulsive creative force, it can also be destructive if the central motivation becomes output over quality, productivity over the joy of creation in itself. That’s something I’m working through in general, when I find myself feeling the pressure to consume as much art as I can in an effort to ‘make up’ for the years I spent in academia. It’s a delicate balance between wanting to use my time well and being self-critical if I don’t.
So I’m heading into 2024 by allowing myself to rest, to step back from the guilt of productivity, and to instead enjoy the winter as it was meant to be enjoyed: as a time to rest and reflect, regroup for a new year. Easier said than done, I’m sure, but I hope you’ll try it too.
Best of 2023
In the spirit of reminiscing, I’ll be counting down the last few weeks of 2023 with a new “best of” list every Sunday. Last week, I shared my favourite books; this week, I wanted to dive into the music that defined my year:
David Byrne: This was the year that I finally got really into David Byrne’s solo work, and I’m not embarrassed to admit that it’s probably because of watching The Bear, in which Glass, Concrete & Stone featured on the soundtrack. I wrote about the trip that was the 40th anniversary screening of the Talking Heads’ concert film Stop Making Sense here.
Joan Armatrading: The 1976 classic Love and Affection was at the top of my most-played list this year, and I may never tire of singing it every time I’m alone in my car. Is there a more perfect opening lyric than “I am not in love, but I’m open to persuasion”? I think not!
Joni Mitchell: Have I mentioned lately that both Mitchell and Rachel Cusk (who made two appearances on last week’s best books list) are both from Saskatoon? If not, here’s your weekly reminder. Every time I play the 1971 masterpiece, Blue, especially California and River, my dog rests her head on a pillow and stares mournfully out of the window like she's in a damn music video—thus is the cross-species power of Ms. Joni Mitchell.
Lana Del Rey: The moment that I listened to Margaret for the first time, I texted my best friend that she needed to play it for her first dance at her wedding next year. It’s since completely proliferated in popularity, as is the power of Lana, but I stand by my assessment that it’s one of the most wedding-perfect songs of 2023. “When you know, you know”!
Nina Simone: I’ve been almost exclusively listening to my pre-2000’s playlist over the past few months, and Simone is always a delightful voice to hear come on shuffle when I do. I Shall Be Released, though originally a Dylan song, is transformed by her impassioned performance and a voice that hits like a crashing wave.
Bob Dylan: Another favourite that will probably top my list every year, like the rest of the names on this list. A frequent repeater this year: his cover of Not Dark Yet. “I can't even remember what it was, I came here to get away from.”
Neko Case: I Wish I Was the Moon was the soundtrack to my grad school years and I haven’t been able to shake it since.
Paul Simon: Highly recommend dancing to Obvious Child in your undergarments, either alone or with company. I also suspect that You Can Call Me Al may be a perfect karaoke song; I will report back once I’ve tested this hypothesis.
Florence + The Machine: At the top of my list to try and see live one day, Florence has been a salvation for me over the past few years, which I wrote about a few months ago. Morning Elvis is a tonic like no other (the entire Dance Fever album is perfect, really).
The National: Seeing them live over the summer was, no exaggeration, a dream come true. 16,000 people singing along to an electric setlist which ended with a 5-song encore, including a godly a cappella version of Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks. I think I’m still buzzing with the after-effects.
Honourable mentions: Frightened Rabbit (a band I was blessed to witness live when I was 18; I’ve since learned that you should try to see the artists you love when you still have the chance), Aretha Franklin (her Kennedy Centre performance is live-giving), Morphine (Cure for Pain was MY song of the summer), and of course The Cranberries, because Linger makes an appearance on my top songs every year.
What was the music that defined your year? Let me know below!
This week’s recommendations
For me, 2023 was a year of appreciating the oldies, and that included classic cinema. In the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing my favourite movies of the year, and I promise you’ll see Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder on that list. This week, we watched Young Frankenstein (1974), a film that proves big dick jokes never go out of style. Later, we watched Duck Soup (1933), and now my husband keeps saying he's been “Groucho-pilled,” such was the delightful after-effect of watching such an influential screwball comedy. By the time we got to the bouncy “we’re going to war” scene, I was certain I’d seen something more original than most contemporary outputs, and certainly more adventurous. Those Marx brothers were really onto something, they should let them do more stuff!