When I was in college, one of my favorite instructors, David Bucknam, told us about a dream. He dreamt that Cher was on the Tonight Show. As she talked, pieces of her face kept falling off. She acted like nothing was wrong, picking up her jaw and holding it in place, scooping up her ear, trying to recement her nose in place all the while chattering as if this was perfectly normal. More disturbingly everyone around her seemed to accept that this was normal too.


I have to return to the city today. I've been Upstate since Thursday, enjoying the shoft sheets and hot mulled apple cider, the bedroom window open at night for the air, snuggling under my duvay. I am honestly on the verge of tears I so do not want to return to NY. Because I feel in returning to NYC I am going back to that holding up my jawbone pretending to smile as I completely fall apart.


I have never been able to really fall apart in public. There are those who think I can, and trust me I've made great strides in the last four years in the falling apart in public category, but still I maintain. My mother once told me that when I was in the hospital when I was six months old and apparently dying, she never left the house a day in her life without putting on make-up, a nice outfit, and smile because she didn't want the neighbors to feel sorry for her. And that's how I learned that death and dying is nothing compared to public appearance. I'll always look good even at the height of my depression. Even when I am living on alcohol and tylenol pm and my apartment looks like set dressing from CHUD, I'll still show up at work put together, made up, with my hair done.


But there is a part of me that want to fall apart. A part that knows if I could just do this, I could start putting myself back together in a more reasonable way instead of hobbling on one leg while trying reassemble the other. And there are times when I know I probably could. I'm sitting with Bakerina or Nutreena and I know I could tell them everything and they wouldn't be angry or upset and certainly it isn't for a lack of words, christ, not that, but I open my mouth and nothing comes out, and I have to pretend things don't feel as horrible as I really do and this point I really do. I honestly do not want to go back tonight.


Whoops, there goes my nose again.