Falling Apart

"So go ahead. Fall down. The world looks different from the ground."
- Oprah Winfrey

The cry I promised myself last night didn't materialize. Even at 55 I have yet to master the fine art of falling apart. I feel like I've been going through the motions of sanity and composure all day, through business meetings, shopping and even cooking dinner. It's just a normal day but nothing feels normal to me. My legs are like jelly and I've had a lump in my throat all day. I've been trying to figure out why the events of yesterday took such a toll. After all, Mom is okay. It was only an eight hour ordeal, not an eighteen hour ordeal. And I handled it. In the final analysis, I think I'm still reeling from the minutes I had alone with her in the car when I believed she was dying in the seat beside me and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

It's not that I'm the kind of person who keeps my feelings to myself. On the contrary, I've long been known for wearing my heart on my sleeve. But something different happens when I'm in crisis mode. The other Jackie kicks in. The strong, in-control, I can manage anything and take care of everyone Jackie. That Jackie makes me tired. But once she is in control of me, I have a hard time getting her to relax and retreat.

I know. I know. I sound like a nut - a schizophrenic nut at that. But when faced with a crisis, I don't seem to have the ability to fall apart even once the crisis is over. Yet I know it would be be cathartic to have the cry, to let it go, to get some release. I just can't get there. It will happen eventually at a time when it's really inconvenient in a response that's completely out of proportion to the event that triggers it. And I will feel terrible for awhile. But after a little bit of time, I will get up off the floor and walk on.