Enough

Between Hamilton opening and the CURE Epilepsy event I was far more social last week than I had been in ages - which also meant more social anxiety. This anxiety began years ago when Adelaide was alive and I would have to explain her and her condition to new people. I didn’t want their pity but discussing Adelaide’s conditions was a pretty inevitable conversation topic when discussing how my day went or basically anything about our family. Then, after she died, it was anxiety over having to answer how many kids I had or navigating the uncomfortable silence around her loss. 

By now, most of the people that we socialize with are well aware of Adelaide and her journey - and if they don’t it is far less draining for me to talk about her. The latest question to have me sweating through my deodorant is, “what are you up to these days?”. I’ve written before about my struggle to appreciate my value to my family outside of a financial contribution and this is STILL something I struggle with - but lately my anxiety has focused more on if I’m doing enough. This week, though, I had a bit of a breakthrough and it was perhaps the most relief I’ve felt in ages. 

In speaking with fellow girlfriends about my ‘doing enough’ insecurity, I discovered that more of us than not have been bitten by this obnoxious bug. Many of the men in my life, however, seemed immune to this particular pest. Miguel, for example, is regularly asked what is next for him after Hamilton. To which he responds confidently and without missing a beat, “more Hamilton”. Miguel doesn’t let this question trip him up the way it would me - and he shouldn’t. He plays the lead role in one of the hottest shows on BROADWAY. He has reached the peak of the musical theater mountain. He also runs his own company and is a devoted and dedicated father and husband. That is enough for him - I mean, that should be enough for anybody - so why does it feel like there is this relentless pressure to push for more?

Growing up, a friend of mine’s father worked at the same company as my dad. But their dad had a higher ranking title than mine, which I could evidently see meant more money and a nicer house. To be clear, I wanted for nothing as a child and we had a beautiful home #privileged. Still, I would ask my dad when he was going to get a promotion. Even as a child I was pushing others around me for more. As far as my dad was concerned he was supporting our family, putting money into savings, and was still able to spend time with us. He was doing enough.

OK, my turn, I’m writing a book, I keep up with my blog that just celebrated its third year, I’m about to become the CURE Epilepsy board chair for which I also host a podcast, I’m navigating an adoption, and I keep my household running (sort-of). On paper that sounds like a lot, right? So why do I second-guess myself? I shouldn’t. I’m doing enough.

Again, for the folks in the back (by folks I mean me…): I’M DOING ENOUGH. 

After Miguel booked Hamilton, AND as a result I left my career, AND Adelaide was diagnosed with infantile spasms, AND we moved to Chicago, AND Miguel was performing each night for standing ovations, AND I was in a new home in a new city with a sick child just struggling to keep my head above water… I decided that maybe I should see a therapist. Aside from working through my resentment of Miguel’s superstar life, my next struggle was - you guessed it - feeling like I wasn’t doing enough. Which, in hind sight, is clearly ridiculous, but perspective is a messy bitch. Anyway, the therapist, who I had already written off for being too young and not having kids of her own, suggested that at the end of each day I try writing down everything that I accomplished in a single day. Internally, I gave this suggestion a hard eye roll - clearly she didn’t have children because by the time everyone was asleep and the house was an acceptable disaster, I was crashing because it was only a matter of hours before someone needed me again. 

I never did her suggested homework but the concept obviously lodged in my head somewhere and, now, I have to admit that there was some logic to it. Every few months I find myself making a mental list of everything I am responsible for, working toward and committed to and the length of the list never ceases to amaze me. When you put pen to paper, or thought to brain, it is difficult to rationally argue that we are not doing enough.

Maybe I’m overly ambitious. Maybe it’s an obnoxious part of being a woman like periods and bras. Maybe it’s generational because we were told as kids that we could be anything we set our minds to. Maybe it’s social media showing us people who are seemingly doing it all, having it all and loving it all.

Whatever the reason, I’m here to tell you that you are doing enough. 

Seriously. 

YOU ARE ENOUGH.