No One Talks About Friend Grief 🫶🏻

Hi friend,

I have to admit: I don’t really identify as a Swiftie. It’s not that I don’t love Taylor’s music; I’ve been a fan since the Tim McGraw and Teardrops on My Guitar days. I specifically remember being on the way to a college internship, mourning a recent breakup, and listening to Back to December on repeat. She’s insanely talented. I just…don’t worship celebrities the way some people do. There, I said it.

That said, her most recent album, The Life of a Showgirl, is very Taylor. Like, actually very Taylor. Have you listened to 1989 or Speak Now? The storytelling, the confessional lyrics, the emotional rollercoaster — it’s all here. Despite what fairweather ERA fans might say, this isn’t a sellout or a pivot; it’s her doing exactly what she does best.

And while we’re at it: celebrities don’t owe us their lives (or their art). Not Taylor, not anyone. Call me an empath, but even with her two-billion-dollar empire, her privacy is basically nonexistent. Let her have her happiness… and her fiancé’s giant pee pee.

Listening to this album made me think about the way music follows us through life — how it remembers heartbreaks, friendships, and late-night confessions alongside us. For me (and so many others), Taylor’s songs have always been that friend who gets it, even when the world doesn’t. And to all of the haters: it was never that serious.

🔍 Ask Clara: How did Taylor Swift's tour impact perceptions of girlhood?

💔 No One Talks About Friend Grief

My beautiful friend Lisa was just 31 when she passed away from triple-negative breast cancer. She loved life more than anyone I’ve ever known. She had more friends than anyone I know, too, and somehow made each of us feel like we were her favorite. Lisa was a firecracker: bold, hilarious, and unfiltered, but also deeply kind. Her laugh filled every room, and I think that’s what I miss most, but honestly, there’s so much I miss.

I once heard that adult friendships are the ones you choose, not the ones you simply grew up with. Lisa was one of my best choices. Losing her so young — right when our lives were just getting started — felt especially cruel. Five years later, I still catch myself thinking of things I want to text her: a dumb meme, a random life update, something that would’ve made her laugh. Then I remember I can’t, and my chest tightens all over again. 

No one really prepares you for this kind of grief, the loss of a friend who shaped so much of who you are. We talk about family loss, romantic heartbreak, even losing a pet. But friend grief? It’s quieter. It hides in the cracks of everyday life.

Throughout her cancer battle, Lisa kept asking one question: “When can I fly again?” Even during chemo, surgery, and radiation, she dreamed of seeing the world with the people she loved. That spirit lives on through The Lisa Marzullo Fly Again Foundation, which honors her memory by giving women battling breast cancer the chance to experience life-changing trips.

Lisa’s story also reminds us that breast cancer doesn’t discriminate. It can affect young women — women with plans, group chats, and futures still unfolding. I talk about her, even when it hurts. Because keeping her memory alive feels like the only way to keep our friendship going. 

🔍 Ask Clara: How does breast cancer impact young women?

📚 Read More: Real Talk About Types of Cancer in Women Under 40

🧠 When My Hormones Hijack My Brain

After reading the book Rich Girl Nation, I went on a spending freeze for more than two months. No impulse buys. No late-night cart fills. Not even a nail appointment. I was feeling smug, like maybe I’d finally cracked my ADHD spending habits.

Then last week happened. Suddenly I was clicking “add to cart,” signing up for discount codes, and convincing myself every email coupon was urgent. Then my period arrived, on cycle day 46 (but that’s a story for another day), and it hit me: Oh. It’s not just my ADHD. It’s my hormones, too. 

The week before and during my period, my ADHD feels like it’s on steroids. Executive dysfunction becomes my default setting. Impulsiveness skyrockets. And my sensory overload? Off the charts. It’s like if my house isn’t cleaned right now, I might actually lose my mind. (Case in point: at 3 a.m. I ordered a Bissell Mini Green Machine and spent the next day deep-cleaning both couches. Who has time for that? Apparently me, during my luteal phase.)

And I’m not alone. Research shows that hormonal fluctuations can worsen ADHD symptoms in women. A review in Frontiers in Global Women’s Health notes that many women with ADHD experience increased irritability, mood swings, and cognitive symptoms during the luteal phase.

Seeing the pattern doesn’t erase the chaos, but it does change how I experience it. Knowing my brain and hormones are interacting turns moments that once felt like failure into moments of insight. It doesn’t make them easier — but it does make me feel a little less bad when I’m clicking “unsubscribe” and returning a pile of stuff I don't need. And that feels like progress.

🔍 Ask Clara: What are the symptoms of ADHD in women?

🪄 Defying Gravity (Again)

Another fun fact about me: I collect Broadway playbills. If I had to guess, I have at least fifty, spanning everything from The Sound of Music revival in 1998 to Rent (my all-time favorite) in the mid-2000s, to Hamilton in my late twenties, where I coincidentally sat right behind Lin-Manuel Miranda and his son. Best. Birthday. Ever.

Now I have a daughter, every bit as dramatic (in the best possible way) and an aspiring theatre kid through and through. Last year, when Wicked hit theaters, she was rapt for the entire film — wide-eyed, mouthing along to “Defying Gravity” — while her best friend fell asleep beside her. I had this quiet moment of recognition: Oh, I gave birth to myself.

We’ve been counting down the days until Part Two comes out, but in the meantime she’s channeling all that Wicked energy into her birthday party. Think “Popular” friendship bracelets, green and pink balloons, glittery cupcakes, and the soundtrack playing on repeat. And yes, she will be wearing a full Glinda costume: tulle, tiara, wand, and all. (She’s seven.)

Honestly, I’m not sure who’s more excited — me or her.

I saw somewhere that being in your thirties is all about rediscovering what you loved as a kid. But motherhood feels like that too, watching your favorite stories come alive again, this time through someone else’s eyes.

🔍 Ask Clara: Why is it important for women to have hobbies?

xo,
Kristyn