It’s the last week of the year which means every newsletter is writing a “year in review” post and I am no different. While I have already written a whole thing about the books that I enjoyed reading this year, there is still much more to discuss.
There were three major stages of 2023 for me: me being a caregiver for my very sick mom who was going to die from brain cancer, my mom dying, and then dealing with the loss of someone very close to me. On a personal front, looking at the calendar year as a whole doesn’t do much for me since major life events tend to pivot for me in the summer, rather than when the year’s number changes. My mom was diagnosed with glioblastoma in May of 2022 and then passed away in June 2023. Maybe it’s because I’m a summer baby myself, or that with school schedules and farming timelines in the past that summer-to-summer is just a better marker of reflecting time that has passed, but the calendar number is changing so it’s time to do a review mid-season.
I’m not going to deny it, this year was particularly awful. A lot of growing up is just realizing that life is going to get harder and harder as you go, with less pleasant things you will have to deal with, but this year was truly a special dose of hardship and hurt. I started the year alone, away from my friends, at my parents’ house—New Year’s fell on a weekend and weekends were for me to do the caregiving duties to take care of my mom (during the week we had professionals come in to let me do things like my job to make money). My dad told me I could skip this weekend and hang out with my friends, but I knew he wasn’t strong enough to do everything that needed to be done, and I was right. So I stayed at the house, watching Usher perform on CNN by myself. I love Usher a lot so it wasn’t too bad.
While the year started off pretty isolating, the months that came after just brought me more and more to my parents and less and less to my life in Chicago, to comedy, to my friends. I went through a breakup from a pretty short relationship that I was too tired to even care about being dumped (it was because I was gone all the time)—I had work to do elsewhere. For months I ran on autopilot, closing my laptop at 5 on Friday and rushing to the train to go back to North Aurora. Saturday and Sundays were for cooking, cleaning, making sure my mom was comfortable and managing my dad’s (and my own) sadness. The cancer made my mom immobile so she required a lot of attention, I didn’t get much time for myself while the sun was out. When we put her to bed, I’d then get a little time for me, but not too much. I was just so tired all the time.
Then it came to May and things started to look bad. My mom was getting weaker and weaker and treatments didn’t seem to hold off the progression of the tumor. It was time to call hospice.
I’ll spare you the grim details about hospice except for that doing it at home is actually a fairly good experience, despite the person dying. It’s a lot more work for the family than being in a facility, but you’re in control of the situation, you know what kind of care they’re receiving, and being at home is generally a lot more pleasant than being in a hospital any day. We already were taking care of her at home for the past year, so this was a no-brainer.
At this point, I pretty much moved back home. I’m a fairly practical person and I needed to be level-headed about the dying process so that other people didn’t have to be. It sucked. Everything about the hospice weeks was awful. Trying to get my dad to understand reality was awful. Working on my stupid little laptop during my mom’s final few weeks was awful. The only things I liked doing were going on walks through the same suburban neighborhood every day, and being around my mom. Even though I hated pretty much everything about it, I can at least know I won’t ever really feel guilty about doing more.
And then she died, and we went into auto-pilot. We had already contacted the funeral home about cremation services and a memorial, I had already gotten the obituary written. We were good to go. She died on Grimace’s birthday, which is just very funny for me, a lover of weird purple fuzzy corporate mascots. We did the funeral (there was some other drama in between but I won’t get into that). I moved back to Chicago (I was paying rent for my apartment the whole time I was gone). It was time to just go back to how things were, just this time a little lonelier.
I expected going back to regular life to be easier than it was. I was so ready to go back—there were so many things I felt like I missed out on while I was doing my daughterly duty and I wanted to make up for lost time. 30 is only coming closer and I wanted to be a girl who had something to show for it. Sure, taking care of your mom for over a year during a terrible illness and her final moments is a great achievement, but it’s something you do in silence, away from your friends, you’re not supposed to show it on social media because it’s a huge bummer. I wanted to be more than just a family gal. I wanted to be like other young people: stupid and carefree. I was never really able to be that kind of girl.
Instead, for the past six months I’ve done pretty much nothing noteworthy. I haven’t written a play, I haven’t done much standup at all, I’ve been pretty neglectful of the newsletters. I’ve started forgetting things more. My status as “friend who is down to do fun stuff” has been revoked and replaced. Dating is a nightmare—even finding someone who doesn’t talk weird and wants to meet up with me one time is very hard. I’m still good enough at my job that I won’t get fired, so at least there’s that. My friends have been very supportive and my therapist tells me that grief takes time, but how much time do I really have to get myself back together? Taking an unexpected sabbatical on art and on life for even a year feels like a lot to make up for (I’m just so young that even just a year feels like a long time, wow!).
In six months I have done some stuff. In the summer I went swimming a lot, which is my favorite thing. There’s nothing like jumping into a massive body of water that could kill you if you don’t respect it enough. My improv team has also managed to curate and put on quite a good show, and I’m grateful that they’ve stuck with me while I do some of the worst, brian-fogged performances of my life (there’s some good ones in there too). When I do manage to get myself out, I have a good time. I’ve started going to open mics again slowly but surely. I’m just so tired all the time. Is it grief, is it that I’m getting so so old, is it that late-stage capitalism is getting everyone down? Maybe it’s all of those things.
This year overall hasn’t been as bad as I’ve made it out to be. I’ve had a lot of good days, a lot of good meals, fun times with friends, and made precious memories. I’ve also had the worst Christmas holiday of my life, but that’s a whole other thing. Life was bad, but it could not possibly get any worse (for now, at least) so I’m hoping to a better calendar year and I’ll get back to you in the summer for a mid-year review.
Anyways, enough about my year! I’m hoping that with enough time I’ll finally, like, be a person again. We can only hope, right?
For the next year, here are some of my resolutions:
Be worse
Become hot (I have to buy all new clothes anyways)
Don’t listen to anyone telling you that by 30 you should consider starting a family (or at least having a pet) even if it’s true because I simply do not want to
Stop being tired all the time (easy!)
Write more for this newsletter
Write more in general
Do better than everyone who has ever wronged me
Put on a one-woman show that explores the loss of my mom but in a way that is so so funny you won’t even be mad that I’m talking about my dead mom AGAIN
See more movies (difficult)
Listen to music that’s not just Pitbull (but still listen to a lot of Pitbull)
And here are some predictions:
Grimace returns with a vengeance.
The Chicago White Sox will seriously consider moving to Nashville until the city gives them so so much money begging them to stay. My friends and I will go on a self-discovery journey to figure out what to do if the team does move. Who are we as people? What are our core values?
The Chicago White Sox will continue to do very poorly. Vanilla Ice will come back and actually perform his little concert.
I dye my hair blonde due to a 30-induced crisis.
There will be a massive exodus on dating apps.
I develop lactose intolerance after all these years.
Nobody from my local friend group will go to Riot Fest this year.
The 2024 presidential election will be the worst thing we’ve ever seen (so far).
George Santos on Drag Race.
Rent goes up by like 20% just at the moment that my roommate and I have to look for a new apartment.
Taylor Swift will have a baby with Travis Kelce and her whole persona changes to midwest blonde mom almost overnight.
Improv will be considered cool now.
Things we all need to let go in 2024:
The fight between skinny jeans and mom jeans and high-waisted pants vs low-rise jeans: pants are already mean, don’t give them any more ammo to be mean to me.
The expectation that there’s a certain way to be when you hit 30 years old and you either need to be on the track to make a family or have a dog or buy a house/condo (no roommates unless you’re fucking, of course!) or have an important, high-paying job. Did we just forget the entire recession? And then the other recession? You all think that you’re of a better mindset than your parents but you are NOT.
It is actually so cool and sexy to be 30 and have never been in love and still live with roommates. It is so COOL and SEXY to do those things.
We are actually not going to judge anyone on their life path. If someone you know is working a job you think they’re too old for, that’s none of your business. Life is hard and things aren’t linear and if you’re friends with me you should KNOW THAT so stop it!
Turning multi-family units into million-dollar, single-family homes (or house flippers in general): you guys are RUINING my life please stop it! Why are you charging $3,600 for an apartment that has the fridge in the dining room?
Charcuterie boards: I love cheese but these things are getting way too pricey.
Things we are bringing into 2024:
Hangouts with friends that aren’t super complicated and are planned out months in advance. It’s exhausting! And expensive! This is a hangout not a bachelorette party—this does not need to be an Event that costs $80 every time. Nobody likes doing these things! Whatever happened to just texting your friends to hang at each other’s houses and not do much but enjoy each other’s presence? I get that we’re “older” or whatever but that doesn’t mean we have to make everything worse.
Going off that, we’re bringing into 2024 making friends a priority again! We can’t survive this cruel world on our own or with just one partner, we need to bring community back. And not just for a crisis—we need to be there for each other for the little things too.
Friendship is the best thing ever.
Also, more swimming in the lake, obviously.
And that’s a wrap for 2023. I’ll see you in the next year!
If you like me (or are only a fan of Ghost Rats), please vote for us in the Chicago Reader for “Best improv/sketch group” and “Best comedy show.”