One of my favorite things about writing this blog is continuously being reminded how many of us are struggling with the exact same things. While I never want other people to struggle it is comforting to know that we have shared demons. Kind of like how Anessa and her friends share a love of the color purple, unicorns, and a difficulty transitioning from one activity to the next. We share anxiety, trauma, and crippling ambition. Same-same.
Normal Broken has been out in the world for three months. In the beginning, I was motivated to get the word out because, holy hell, I wrote a book! It was celebratory and exciting. Lately, though, it’s felt like one of those dreams where you are trying to run but your legs aren’t working and everyone and their grandmother is passing you but your feet just won’t go any faster. On that note, who could use a little Friday morning pep talk?
Recently, the dogs and I have been on the same wavelength: couch cuddles for the win! To be fair, this is Tabasco’s wavelength most of the time. Which is fair, he turned 15 this week. Yes, you read that right, 15. Tabasco has been my very best boy for a long time. He has been by my side through the most challenging years of my life. But what if there is more to it than just a loyal dog…
Through the marketing of Normal Broken, I’ve had the opportunity to listen, relate, and connect with person after person who is facing their unique grief while craving a sense of community and understanding. One of these people, is Tasha Firoza Faruqui, a pediatrician and mother of three, whose middle child, Soraya, has an unknown neurodegenerative condition with no cure. Today, I ask you to sit in the dark with Tasha, Soraya, and their family. To witness their journey and send them the love and strength they need, as they survive with tears on their faces and laughter in their hearts.
Well, it’s been nearly two weeks since Miguel took his final bow as Hamilton… and he’s been sick for nearly all of it. Only Miguel seems to be surprised by this turn in his health. To which I asked him, did you read my book? Specifically, the part about how our emotional health affects our physical health? I digress.
What do I even say about the magic that occurred on Sunday evening? I was so caught up in the logistics –family and friends coming in from out of town, making sure everyone’s tickets were squared away, that they knew how to get to the after-party – I hadn’t given much thought to the main event. That was admittedly on purpose though. One of my favorite coping mechanisms is to focus on what I can control so I don’t dwell on what I can’t.
I asked Miguel if he wanted to write this week’s blog post in honor of his final performance as Alexander Hamilton this Sunday. He kindly obliged. I don’t believe that either of us has been brave enough to sit down and process what this show has meant to our family and how complicated this goodbye is.
I was going to skip the blog this week. Between holiday prep at home, holiday festivities at the kids’ schools, and regular life, I felt stretched and drained. Then I felt a lump in my boob. After a mammogram and ultrasound (that were panic booked at 4am), it turns out it is just another cyst - nothing to worry about. I tried to exhale with the relieving news but couldn’t.
Countless times I have been told with the utmost sincerity and respect, “I lost my parent/spouse/sibling, but that’s nothing like losing a child.” Child loss is generally considered, to quote from Hamilton, “the unimaginable”. The thing is labeling grief from child loss this way doesn’t benefit the griever as many people seem to think it should.
I love the holidays, I really do. But the stress of making holiday magic is a lot, on top of, you know, just all the regular life stuff. This week I felt my anger and irritability rise and my usual tricks weren’t working. I was in an ugly cycle of stress, lashing out, and instant guilt. Then during a magical acupuncture session, I was able to find the reset I was desperately seeking, along with some advice that forced me to rethink the way I was managing my emotions. Photo styled and taken by Anessa.
It’s only been two weeks since my last post, but it might as well have been two months. 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. 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. But I would feel false if I didn’t admit that even still my grief catches up to me.
With Normal Broken out in the world and my book tour underway, I figured everyone would forgive me if there was no blog this week. Then I got on the plane to fly from New Jersey to Chicago and was hit with the reality of what I was embarking on and what a big deal all of this is for me professionally and personally.
