Outward Perception: On Star Jones and Me

On a rare whim yesterday, I turned on the afternoon Oprah show and settled myself on the couch to hear the Star Jones weight loss story. I haven't been too up on my celebrity info since I cancelled my YMCA membership 3 years ago. Why oh why doesn't Lifetime provide trash magazines? I digress.

Anyway, the interview with Star Jones was profound. For those who didn't watch, a woman who appeared confident years ago was crumbling internally and externally. Star admitted that in her most popular year as a talk show host on The View, she was at her largest weight and was afraid for her audience to discover how self-conscious she had become. She compensated for feeling small internally by putting on a "big" persona---bigger jokes, bigger acrylic nails, bigger hair.

I can relate to Star Jones on many levels, the least of which is weight-related. Primarily, I share with Star the feeling that others believe in me/are confident in me when I do not share that confidence in myself.

Over the last months since Jimmy's birth, I have been on a verifiable roller-coaster of emotion. I described it to John recently: the work-load of managing my three kids, maintaining a clean house, cooking, and keeping up with the laundry was pretty much equivalent to the stress-load of having college finals every single day. Who can live like that? I had an internal stress building and building within me. Every day, I found myself spontaneously bursting little by little....first, an unwarranted yell at my children and next, a unjustified outburst at John.

A few weeks ago, John went to visit his sister, Emily, in Seattle for a stretch of five days. While I was happy at their unique chance for an adult sibling bonding retreat, I couldn't help but feel completely overwhelmed at the prospect of handling all this stress with no back-up at 5pm. John got on the plane, and my stress catapulted higher than it had been since I worked as a crazy dog in event planning.

Four days into John's trip, my brain started to detach a little bit from the situation. I could feel my mind starting to fizzle and fray like a live wire. I started to feel like another 24 hours in the pressure-cooker with my kids was actually unmanageable. Like the kids wouldn't be safe if I continued to be their primary provider for even a few more hours.

That was a scary feeling, folks.

Thankfully, I retained control over the situation long enough to load my kids into the car early on Sunday morning, and drive slowly to my parents house. Twenty minutes from my home had never felt so long. All the while, I kept telling myself, "I can handle driving to Mom and Dad's. I can get to a safe place." And then, in what seemed like forever, I was there.

The story of what happened next is probably equally important, but I've got to get my Goose girl off to her new Montessori school, so your curiousity will have to remain at bay.

I want you to know that even when someone around you seems to have it all together, they may not. Sometimes a bit of probing and insisting to help can make a big difference.

If you're the one cracking inside, please ask for help.