The Joker.

The more people she spoke to about this the more she realized that women, mothers specifically, were falling apart on a biblical level. Except that none of us were able to really do that, the run naked screaming down the street bit, the big jazzimba check into rehab breakdown, because who would pick up the kids from school? No rather they, we, us on a daily macro, micro level were doing the invisible juggle, the mental ticking of boxes that ensure the world carries on turning while internally we paint lipstick on our eyes and laugh into corners. This has been well documented, everyone knows we are all having a hard time, but it is one thing reading about it and thinking that is happening to all of “them” but it was an eye-opening moment when she realized that she and her pals were part of that, there, them too.

Not too long ago she was at a girl's dinner, somehow five moms had found an evening they were all free. She is the newest member of this group and it took a few dinners for some of them to feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable around her. One of them in particular, whose life she often envied, like Instagram it all looked perfect, was usually happier showing her best face. But on this night, this beautiful woman fell apart and she saw the stitches coming undone, she saw the daily pressure cracking her open and the joker was climbing out.  She had talked a lot about this daily grind with old friends, it was a given, but for some reason it was this new friend of hers that made her realize that ladies every where were silently breaking apart with big smiles plastered across their faces.