A state of healING
It’s only been two weeks since my last post but it might as well have been two months. Not to mention we have officially entered the end of the year which seems to move at triple time compared to the start. That my family is currently functional at all is a testament to my mother and aunt who stepped in to help while I’ve been away and while Miguel has been opening his new batting cage business during the day and performing in his ruffled shirts and tall boots at night.
This is a season of life. I keep reminding myself that while simultaneously trying to enjoy my newfound freedom and purpose. Seriously, this tour has been incredible and I am beyond grateful that I could travel and share my words in the way I have. By the time I return home, I will have visited ten cities, participated in over a dozen events, and sat for even more interviews. Highlights have included meeting friends I’ve known for years but only interacted with through my phone screen, precious time spent with family - and friends that might as well be family, as well as connecting with new people whom my words are finding when they need it most.
Throughout these last few weeks, I have been on the lookout for signs from Adelaide, that she is with me, that she is proud or at least approves. There have been a couple: ladybugs on the doorway at my brother’s house, a Frank Sinatra song playing in an Uber to one airport or another, but mostly, I just feel her with me – almost a part of me – in a way I haven’t felt much before.
After the first leg of the tour, I was able to return home for a week to celebrate Thanksgiving with Miguel, Jackson, Anessa, and dear friends. It was as laid back and quiet as a holiday can be with an excitable five, eleven, and sixteen-year-old. That morning though, my anxiety hit an unexpected crescendo. I had been so proud of keeping my anxiety in check for the entire tour up to that point. I had spoken in front of hundreds of people, flown to new cities every other day, been away from my family, and been fine. But not today! I spent the drive to our friend’s Manhattan apartment practicing my deep breathing techniques and wishing I’d packed a Klonopin.
One of the many shitty things about anxiety is that it’s not always possible to pinpoint the source. Honestly, I’m not sure which is worse: having anxiety and knowing exactly what is causing it, or going on a snipe hunt for the reason and turning up all sorts of details that could be upsetting but may or may not be the reason for this anxious moment’s season
So I sat there in the passenger seat of our suburbia-issued SUV running through a list of all the things that could have gotten my heart pounding and breath short.
We prepared our dinner contribution with little stress, packed the food and children into the car and there wasn’t any traffic. That wasn’t it.
Holiday stress was certainly weighing on me, but I still had time to pull off a magical December for the family. Not it either.
The next leg of my travels was only days away but I felt relatively prepared. Strike three.
Then my mind drifted to, where it often does, Adelaide.
I certainly missed her, I always do, but it didn’t feel any more or less than any other day. Up to that point, I had been pretty proud of myself for allowing my grief and joy to coexist - especially on holidays. Still, most holidays with Adelaide were stressful: we never knew when she would take a bad turn and force us to divert from months-in-the-making plans. Was this just a learned holiday response ingrained into the pathways of my brain to always be on alert for trouble or trauma when formal family-style meals were being served?
By this point, Jackson and Anessa were asleep in the seats behind me. They both have an impressive knack for napping in cars. I turned to look at them, to remind myself that my physical children were safe and healthy. And then completely unbidden the realization dawned on me that someday Anessa would (thankfully) be with us longer than Adelaide ever was and the tears pooled and my breathing stopped.
I don’t actually think this was the cause of my anxiety. My brain was just erratically spiraling and eventually, it collided with a thought worthy of my current physical pain. I voiced my realization to Miguel and he acknowledged the shake in my voice by reaching for my hand. We continued on, hand in hand, the city skyline on the horizon.
The rest of our holiday was lovely and relatively anxiety and pain-free. I felt compelled to share this experience for one main reason: I don’t want anyone to think that I have all this grief stuff figured out. Yes, I wrote a book that I genuinely hope helps people decide to heal, take those first steps, or even just put their confusing and contradictory emotions into words. But I am in no way healed and I never will be.
Each of us is in a continuous state of healing: we will have good and bad days. And hopefully, with time and practice those more challenging times become less debilitating, our recovery time sharpens, and bad days become bad moments that we process in real-time. I never would have dreamed that I could accomplish what I have this past month just four years ago. But an inchstone at a time I’ve found myself here, and with my baby girl closer than ever.
ID: A close-up selfie of Miguel, Kelly, Jackson, and Anessa all smiling (Anessa with a strawberry sticker over her face) on the Hamilton Musical stage.
