Not for her

Four days. The Luckiest comes out in four days.

I’ve had several people ask me if publishing this book feels different from Normal Broken. To which I cackle like a crazy person and answer, yes.

In Normal Broken I shared my grief and the lessons I learned, all with the goal of helping others choose to heal. Yes, I shared a lot of my personal experiences, but I was able to hide behind the prescriptive nature of the book when talking about them. Also, I had already been writing about grief publicly for years, and I knew nothing I experienced in grief was unique to me.

The Luckiest, however, is a memoir. While I hope people can pull lessons from my trials, the lessons are not explicit. Some of the stories I share, on the other hand, are. Many of these experiences I have never written about publicly. Some of my close friends have not heard all of these details. It’s a lot and it’s scary.

What I will say (reminding myself this as well), is that every piece of my life I’m sharing in this new book was chosen for a reason. My early years provided my foundational understanding of how the world works, some seasons bruised me, while others healed me. Some reopened old wounds I thought had long been forgotten, but our bodies never really forget, do they? All our bumps and bruises are still there nestled under the layers of life that came after.

The Luckiest is the compilation of my layers, the reason I am the way I am, a road map to how I got here. It is a series of choices, reactions, and responses – some really smart ones, others significantly less so. The thing is, while there are about 99 things I wish I could change about my life, every single one of them led me to where I am today. And today is actually a beautiful place to be even if some days still hurt really freaking bad.

Then there is the pressure that I excel at putting on myself. I was thrilled with the way Normal Broken was received and so I am expecting The Luckiest to do just as well… No, that’s not true, I expect it to do better. But it doesn’t always work that way and many of the factors are outside of my control.

I am also coming to this book with more experience and knowledge of how the publishing world works. I understand the importance of making this list or receiving a review from that publication. Cue the many, many emails to my agent, publisher, and publicist, who navigate them like the pros they are. There is no way they get paid enough.

The unfortunate truth is that my ambitious eldest daughter, Enneagram 3 self, will never be satisfied. I see you, Angelica Schuyler. What writing this book has taught me though, is that I have a clear pattern of saddling myself with anxiety in the present only for my future self to be proud of where we ended up – even if I fell short of my (largely unrealistic) goals.

That’s probably why I’m not able to connect when people say that the person they wish to make the proudest is their younger self. And while I do think ten-year-old Kelly would think it’s pretty cool that we’ve published two books, she also wanted to be a marine biologist and was obsessed with Jonathan Brandeis on SeaQuest – so… different priorities. I don’t do this for her. No, every action I take is for my future self. THAT is who I want to make proud because she is the one that has to live with my past and present decisions.

But most of that pressure pales in comparison to the fact that I am asking folks to buy my book and/or tickets to our book tour while SNAP benefits are cut and healthcare subsidies expire. Who the hell am I to ask people to spend their hard-earned money on my words when others are suffering? I haven’t figured out how to reconcile that one yet, beyond knowing intimately that even amidst chaos, life moves forward. And maybe hearing my story might help others move through the chaos as well. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself so that I don’t feel like a horrible person for all this self-promotion.

Anyway, please keep my family, friends, and colleagues in your thoughts as they support me. And if you see me, I am currently accepting all the hugs.

P.S. I wrote an essay for Cognoscenti (wbur/NPR Boston) about my first breast cancer awareness month as a “survivor” and my thoughts on the current cuts to medical research. Check it out!

Image Description: Kelly, age 8 or 9, sitting in front of a fireplace in a navy blue dress with a white turtleneck underneath it. She has long dark blonde hair, bangs, and is wearing a frilly headband. Behind her is a Christmas stocking.