So, I’m freaking out. It snuck up on me, I’m really talented at living in denial. I make a home there with decorative pillows, plush throws and cozy rugs. Then that cozy rug is pulled out from under me and I’m forced to face the truth. Miguel and I had an amazing vacation in Mexico. We had not been able to get away for more than a night or two, just the two of us, in more than four years. It is not lost on me why we were finally able to take this trip. That said, I was still able to appreciate the time we had together. I am truly grateful for that. But on our return, this week’s truth hit me hard: Miguel is leaving Chicago on Monday to prepare for Hamilton on Broadway. To quote some show you might know, “Awesome! Wow!”. I want to preface the rest of this post by saying we will be ok. I know we will. But right now this chick is panicking about her rock and mainstay leaving her and I need to be honest with myself that this is going to be emotionally and logistically difficult. Had you asked me last month how I felt about Mig leaving I would have been like, “I’m totally cool, it’ll be fine. I can do this single parenting thing, I mean, Jackson is our easy kid. It’s Miguel that is going to have it rough in an empty house all alone in New Jersey.” Flash forward to this week where my hands are shaking and none of my meds are helping. I even texted my mom, a former nurse and mental health therapist, to see if I could take multiple anti-anxiety meds at the same time. She said no. 

Of course, all of these feelings have triggered amplified Adelaide grief that, prior to this week, I had been working through in a productive way. I’ve now entered a full on grief regression spending more time in bed this week than I have since December. Monday and Tuesday I tried to fight through it, very unsuccessfully I might add. It took until Wednesday for me to recognize that this regression was directly tied to Miguel’s departure and then I gave myself a break. Look, I know grief isn’t linear. I understand that there will be good weeks and bad. But I was starting to feel a little like me again, so this turn just frankly sucks.

We’re lucky, Miguel will be able to travel back to us most Sunday and Mondays. Jackson and I are used to not having Miguel home in the evenings but it’s the mental adjustment of knowing that if we need him, or just want him, he’s not 20 minutes away at the theater. It’s another new normal to which we will learn to adjust. We’ve had a lot of new normals lately and there will be a few more to come just this year, not least of which will be the cross country move to join him in August. I’ve constructed a full on villa of denial to protect me from that truth. Maybe that’s why I’ve bizarrely found myself missing the daily stress of making life and death decisions regarding Adelaide’s care. That stress, albeit awful, is familiar. This is new.

It’s small peanuts in comparison though, right? Especially, compared to everything else we’ve experienced in the last few years? That’s what I thought, too. Hence, my residence in casa de denial. Maybe my stress threshold has been lowered since Adelaide’s death. Perhaps I’m out of practice. Or maybe I just need to remind myself to practice what I preach: living one inchstone at a time. We will figure this next chapter out just as we have done the rest. The difference is that this time I have to find my strength from within vs drawing it from Miss A. I was strong for her and because of her. She was my battery. Now I have to rely on myself and my own confidence. My rational brain says, “you’ve got this”, so bring on the next new normal. Let me just refill my meds first.