This week was a test that truly did push me to the Brink.

With half of our happy home unemployed at the moment, like millions of others across the country, we have tried to be responsible about our spending. But, for some reason, this week it finally became clear that the math isn’t working. So, further cuts were arranged. Then, our daughter became sick. And, two days in to what we thought was just another vomit-fest, we realized there was more to it. ER here we came. The ER came the same day that, late for work, I managed to forget my lunch (another cost-cutting measure), my train pass, my subway card and - then I broke my glasses on the train. All minor things, but all made me realize that the sponge was close to capacity, and I was losing my ability to make good decisions.

It’s amazing to realize that you’ve reached a point where you should not make decisions. Because as a juggler, this is your role, your very being. I MUST be able to make decisions. Or else, paralysis sets in and things just don’t happen anymore. And we can’t have that. Things only progress when decisions are made. Forward momentum must be maintained. Decisions must happen. But, after the all-nighter in the ER, and home again with my daughter, I realized that it was too much. This week was too much. And then it happened. I took a nap.

It feels like I’ve actually been napping for 2 days, but it was really only a couple of hours. But, it’s slow to start the engine again, and I don’t think I am quite there in terms of having pulled back from the brink. I am highly irritable. I don’t want to play with the kids because I am exhausted from cleaning up puke. But, I am so tired of them watching TV that I’m not sure which way to turn. And, my poor husband, I have nothing for him. I am still tired, irritated, feeling low, angry, stressed about what I missed at work during the day I took off, and just not sure where to start. It will become clear again in a few days, but there are the times that I wonder if being the juggler is worth it. And this is one of those days.

There are days when - as much as I try to maintain perspective on what I am doing - I seriously feel like a person teetering on the brink, about to lose all contact with reason. I question everything. My ability to parent, my capabilities as a worker, manager, leader, and also, my role as a wife. Most days, I feel I can absorb a certain amount of impact with remarkable dexterity.

In a recent article in Cookie magazine, I read an article by a woman writer who ponders her ability to cope with stress. She says that she believes that a certain amount of her ability to absorb bad events comes from having grown up the daughter of divorced parents. Up until that point, I had always thought that my ability to absorb was simply a character trait - some people scream it out, while others press it down. I have always been of the latter ilk. And, as you would expect, every once in a while the sponge has reached it’s max, and I overflow. Then, once it’s out of me, I go back to soaking it up. I had never connected the dots - perhaps naively - to what my sister and I needed to be able to do as children.

Our mother did her best to care for us, and let’s face it, we lived a decent middle class life. No unusual hardships faced us, except that we were latch-key kids at what would now be considered an illegal age - I was 8 - and, perhaps more importantly, there was no warmth in our home that went beyond what someone could buy for us - a nice pair of shoes, a new pair of jeans. No emotion was passed from one person to another. It was quiet. Seemingly always so, unless we had friends over.  And, while we had material things, we learned to work hard, to be responsible, to always over-deliver - and, we learned to do for ourselves emotionally.

Sunday lunches with Dad were a punishment through our teen years because no one spoke at the table. We ate in uncomfortable silence, sometimes playing hang man to avoid talking, and then drove home in silence only to bypass mom and go watch TV in the den. No one was there to guide us, or listen to us, through our teen trials and tribulations. And, you know what - suck it up. That’s how it was. I never considered it a gap. And, because I do respect to my mother, I have to say that she did the best she could. Now that I am married and have children, I’m not even sure how she did that much. She simply didn’t have anything else in left for us at the end of the day.

Not until much later in life, did I realize that my response to confrontation and stress was to - yep - suck it up, rather than rail against it or fight it. It’s actually what has made me an incredibly empathetic boss. I am tough, but fair, and I always want to see it the other person’s way before I pass judgment. This doesn’t make me perfect by any stretch, but my M.O. is to relate before I reject.

But even I, as capable as I am of absorbing, have days when the forces of Nature test me. And I sense I am nearing the brink…