I was dead set, though. “No, I’m finishing this.” I danced through the pain, and when I was done, I collapsed, and it was 2022, and I’ve been collapsing ever since.
On our last night of filming, Linda and I shared an incredibly emotional scene. Liz Feldman kept stopping us and saying, “Can you guys stop crying so much? It’s really not helping the scene.”
We were sitting in bed together. Linda says,
—I’ve had the best time, Jen.
I misunderstand her and think she’s talking about Mexico, where we are.
—Me too.
But she corrects me.
—I mean, I’ve had the best time… with you.
—Me too.
I don’t think either of us was acting then.
On every take, when she spoke, my whole stomach lurched because I knew it was our last moment together, and we’d been through so much.
I think this was the first time in my life that people saw I was good at what I can do.
And it was all being taken away.
I don’t like not finishing things. That’s another reason this illness has been so brutal. When I got sick, I realized quickly that my career was finished, and so prematurely. It’s not just having an illness that makes work impossible; it’s everything that goes into making movies and TV shows. I can’t get up at five thirty in the morning, can’t sit in a car for long periods on the way to set, can’t bear people touching my face. I just can’t do it anymore.
The last time I truly felt a part of Hollywood was at the 75thEmmy Awards, when I was nominated for Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series for my role inDead to Me. I took Sadie as my date. I don’t think I would have made it through without her by my side—mostly because she forced me to stay so she could see all her favorite people on stage. Cough, Natasha Lyonne, cough.
I was terrified that night. It wasn’t my first time in public with my disease, but it was my first time in a room full of my peers. I was so scared, and I was the first presenter of the whole show.
My dress was heavy, and I grabbed the arm of my pal AnthonyAnderson to stabilize me. As I walked out, every single person in that room stood up.
It was something I’d always dreamed of, walking onto a stage and having people stand up and clap for me. But in that moment, I kept thinking,They’re standing up because I’m sick.They’re standing up because I’m sick and not because they appreciate all the work I’ve done. That’s why I made a joke. I wanted everyone to know that it was okay, they didn’t have to feel sorry for me. Even in a room full of my peers giving me a standing ovation I couldn’t accept their approval.
I started to cry.
No one had ever stood up for me for my acting before, and here they all were.Christina, look at everyone and see that this is a moment and they are all loving on you. It was hard for me to accept it, but I hold on to it so dearly in my heart.Thank you.
But then, they stood up for the next person, and the next person, and the next. Up and down and up and down. Sadie and I couldn’t keep it together. We were doubled over laughing.
“I thought it was just for me!” I said, as we all stood up yet again. “Guys, come on. I thought I had a moment, you assholes!” Eventually, after the millionth standing ovation, we just sat in our seats, too tired to get up again, losing our shit giggling at the ridiculousness of it all.
I didn’t end up winning the Emmy that night, but it was still a special evening. Regardless of my self-deprecating nature, I know deep down that it was all love and appreciation. In a room filled with some of the best, most talented people I’ve come across in my five-decade long career, I felt their warmth in my heart, even if I have to fight my inner critic to fully embrace it. It’s a moment I will forever be grateful for from my peers. One that plays over and over again in my mind.
Sometimes my daughter’s friends tell her, “Oh my god, your mom, your mom!” It fills me with that familiar shame. I still hear those words, “You’re doing it,” echoing endlessly.
But then, recently, my daughter said, “You are the best actress I’ve ever seen.”
She’s the person I love most in this world, and I think maybe, just maybe, her voice echoes the loudest.
EIGHTEEN
THE LADY IN THE BATHTUB FROMTHE SHINING
“WHAT’S MYHAWAIIAN NAME?”I was in Hawaii with my friend Shaney Boy.
“Kilikina,” he said, Kiki for short. To this day, no one on Hawaii calls me Christina.
