a place fit for kings and queens: keep moving on. (A R I Z O N A at The Mann in Philadelphia, PA - 5/11/23)

As I pull out my phone to write this blog, I'm in an Uber coming home from seeing A R I Z O N A at the Mann. It's Thursday, May 11; the time on the driver's clock reads 9:27 (my phone says it's only 9:22), and as I clutch the shirt and hoodie I purchased, I think back to the night I've had. I'm deliriously happy – it's spilling out of me - and I've had the time of my life.

This entire week has been awful. Nothing has been going my way, and on Wednesday, I had the worst headache pain I'd had in a while. The pain was blinding, burning nerve pain that radiated from the base of my skull up along my scalp. Heating pads, stretches, muscle relaxers – nothing was helping. Why does my head hurt so badly? I flashed back to winter and felt sick, reliving the trauma. A bad nightmare rearing its ugly head, my mind spiraled: Have I gone through all this physical therapy and trialed all these medications for nothing? Will I ever find true relief? Will this ever end?

When I woke up the morning of the show, my head felt fine, but my mind was stuck in the same dark place: will going to the show worsen my pain? Will it be too much activity, too much sound and light, too much time on my feet? Will my heart race uncontrollably, will I have to sit down or risk nearly passing out? Will I regret going to see A R I Z O N A? I had seen the band once before, in 2019, at The Filmore in Philadelphia. They were headlining that night, and I interviewed them before the show (in 2020, I got interviewed about that). I'd been thinking about that show ever since – how much fun I'd had, how it made me fall in love with A R I Z O N A's music even more – and despite my fears of feeling unwell, I knew I couldn't miss this one.

Walking towards the entrance and through the gate, I could feel my heartbeat getting faster and my body nudging me to sit down. As I climbed the stairs, I could feel my heart racing, beating faster than it had recently (I'm on medication for this – what's going on?). I quickly ate a salt packet and drank a Gatorade; as soon as I could catch my breath, I went to the merch booth and bought an A R I Z O N A shirt. Making my way to the crowd, I was happy to find a spot that wasn't too packed. God, I need to lie down. I laid down on the turf for a few minutes, praying my heart would slow enough that I could comfortably stand to enjoy the show. I prayed I'd be able to be on my feet, that my body would cooperate.

After Julia Wolf's set, I made my way closer to the stage. It's here; it's happening. I'm about to see A R I Z O N A again. Zach, Nate, and David took the stage, opening with "Freaking Out," and I found myself thinking back to the summer of 2020 when I'd first written about the song. At that time, I'd been plagued by debilitating "sleep issues" that seemed to have no answer. And in 2022, as I went to visit after visit with a sleep specialist and did two sleep studies, the mystery around my insomnia only grew. I feared that I was crazy, that my inability to get a restful night of sleep was my fault somehow. Now, I'm pretty close to an answer (no, it's not "anxiety"), I've finally learned what I need to do to fix my sleep, and I feel fucking free. I lost myself in "Freaking Out," feeling so connected to the music that I couldn't tell if there were five people or five thousand around me – all that mattered was the song being performed just a few feet before me.

I guess you could say I was practicing mindfulness. But the thing about mindfulness is that when you're in pain, it is really hard. Because pain – especially bad headache pain – takes over everything. It messes with your mind, and you can't enjoy the moment; all you can do, think, and feel, is pain. I was desperate and willing to try anything. I tried drug after drug – four different migraine preventatives, three different triptans, two rounds of steroids, a short course of an anti-convulsant, and plenty of NSAIDs – and got nowhere. In January, after 53 days of being at a constant level 9 pain (I'm saving "level 10" for pain that knocks me unconscious), I got nerve blocks – numbing medications injected into my scalp. The next day – day 54 – I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the worst was over. Only it wasn't quite over. Soon enough, my pain was back up to a level 8, and I was finding it impossible to hold out hope that things might get better, that I might finally find relief.

It was February 8; I wondered if I should give up, if it were time to accept that this pain was my life. Is it even worth it to try anything else? Is the heartbreak of another method of relief failing even worth the potential that it might help? I wanted to get better, but I could barely get through each day. I dreamed of going to shows but could hardly wash the dishes or cook dinner. It all seemed so out of reach. And then, on February 8, A R I Z O N A released "Moving On." The timing was perfect – "We'll be alright if we just keep moving on, keep moving on, keep moving on," Zach chanted in the chorus. Okay – I'll keep trying. If I keep trying, if I keep moving on, I'll be alright. The next day, February 9, I had my first physical therapy visit – I was given some stretches to practice daily and felt immediate relief from my pain. There was surely a long road ahead, but maybe things were finally looking up.

Cut to three months later, at the show: a few songs into A R I Z O N A's set, I realized I didn't have a headache. I reveled in the moment and thanked whatever spiritual being was looking out for me. I looked up at the stage, recognizing the opening notes of "Moving On," and the lights shining on Zach, Nate, and David shone like a clarion call directly to me: there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's right in front of my face. The performance of "Moving On" could've lasted three and a half minutes or an entire lifetime, a lifetime I continued to soak into over the following few songs.

When the band began playing "Still Alive," my chest burned so heavily with relief, I thought I was hearing things; after all, this was a song I'd turned to many times when I needed a reminder that I could get through this, and the timing felt like it was made just for me. Now, it felt like a celebration. From November till March, I was just existing. The pain in my head and neck was so bad, I was a shell of myself. I'd cry to myself at night: I miss living my life. This pain has taken over everything. I want my life back. And now, thanks to a new migraine preventative - Ajovy, the fifth one I've tried - and continued physical therapy, I'm getting my life back. I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm listening to one of my favorite bands play one of my favorite songs. "Still Alive" is a proclamation of triumph through adversity; if the members of A R I Z O N A can get through the experiences that inspired the song, I can get through this. As they played "Cross Your Mind," I thought back to the first time I'd heard that song in 2018. I was fixated on someone that didn't even matter. I was a year out from knee surgery, and I took for granted that I could exercise, go to a concert, and go grocery shopping without pain. Now, I don't take any of that for granted because I know how easily it can be taken away from me.

After toasting to their new album release – just a few hours away – Zach told the crowd they'd be playing a new song. There's something so special about your first exposure to a song being hearing it live – I couldn't believe I was so lucky. Introducing "Graveyard," Zach explained that the new album, A R I Z O N A, is about "perspective" - and at that moment, I felt I had all I needed. The sun had set, and a refreshing breeze was coming in as he sang of a place fit for kings and queens. The song filled the blood in my veins, and I was completely entranced. A R I Z O N A is more than a band and this night is more than a concert – this is everything.

Sitting in that Uber on my way home, my feet were sore from standing in impractical shoes. But… I was able to stand for the show – something that wouldn't have been possible a few months ago when my orthostatic intolerance was untreated. And… I didn't have a headache by the time I got home. It's Friday evening as I finish writing this, and I don't have a headache now either. This doesn't mean I'm cured – but it does mean I'm getting better. And realizing that I really, truly am getting better feels all the sweeter now because of what an amazing time I had last night.