Fireworks

and the intense love I carry for everyone

by author

There was a time as a child and teenager when I loved to watch fireworks. I thought it was moving and exciting.

I became quite a thrill-seeker in my youth. I know now that I was terribly disassociated from my body. My sensory needs were never met and I was balancing an autistic neurological profile with an ADHD one.

I won’t get into it, but my family wasn’t…helpful or nuturing.

I have a daughter who seems to be just like me. I think she is also AuDHD, but don’t have “proof”.

She’s a thrill-seeker like I was, but when she starts having a meltdown from sensory overstimulation, I know how to help her, mostly. I also help her introduce padding before an anticipated overwhelming event.

All this to say, she was begging me to go watch fireworks. My three year old suffers through them to be like his sister, but does not enjoy.

All I can think about are the traumatized birds and how fireworks feel too much like my nervous system is being brutally attacked.

We made it to the show. We walked there to avoid being stuck in any traffic. I ate popcorn on the way over (my comfort food). We brought noise-cancelling headphones.

At the show, my son had sat down for two minutes and then promptly asked me to go for a walk.

I was thinking the exact same thing.

Me walking around with him in my arms is his safe place. I didn’t watch most of the actual fireworks. He didn’t either. He laid on my shoulder. We were good with that.

We made it through the show. The finale was literally like being shot at with a machine gun, I was over it.

But the walk back was this magical experience.

Except one part where my daughter was so distracted/overwhelmed/excited that she walked right into a lamp post. (She was ok!)

The entire crowd walked off in the same direction—away from the river and firework debris that inevitably filled the water and littered the park— breathing in all the fumes.

It began to rain lightly.

Familiar faces popped up one by one. My husband’s former boss (and also former state senator) was lurking behind us and we stopped for an awkward conversation. Had a good laugh.

Then, appears one of my favorite people in the world, who runs a small farm in the city that I used to volunteer at. He talked to me and my daughter as we rushed towards downtown and we shared a joyful goodbye as I got stopped to see a friend outside a bar switching out a keg.

Another laugh shared.

Then I got a friendly tap on my shoulder. It’s the guy we see every morning at the dog park who is a few years older than me, but went to the same high school. I went to an ‘alternative’ school and whenever I run into someone who went there we just have this immediate bond.

We don’t speak at all, I just smile that it’s funny to run into them and we keep walking on.

We cross a bridge over the river, lights reflecting on the dark blue water. We walk along, watching the stand still traffic and doing our best to ignore the honking and varying music blasting.

I held a warmth in my heart that acted like armor against everything that was overwhelming me. The excitement of my daughter, the community I laughed with, the intense love I carried for everyone around me.

My sister was supposed to come with us, but her husband wasn’t feeling well and she stayed home with him. Though, when I run into our favorite people out in the world, she tends to kind of experience it through me. And I do the same with her. We’re very connected.

I skip a lot of events like this, but I’m pretty sure I’m moving out of this city soon and I’m glad I made it. Though apparently some drunk people started fighting and caused a lot of people to panic.

I fortunately missed any of that.

And also I don’t get drunk these days.

When we were kids, my sister and I didn’t have enough fun together. We never partied or drank or anything like that. She did those things super young and when I started to do them, she had committed to being sober.

We’re on the same page now with pretty much everything, but it took some time. We both went through a lot, we were stuck in survival mode. We were afraid to be honest and vulnerable with each other for so long.

But sometimes back then, when we were alone,
we danced like crazy to Animal Collective.

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