Cracked

“I’m feeling a little cracked.”

I’m not sure how many times this phrase has come out of my mouth in the last month but I hazard to guess it’s been a lot. Cracked is a term I use when talking to my mother to describe a particular state of emotional upheaval.

Sometimes I even take this one step further and ask her if she can see the forming of a tiny crack in my head as I point to the small crevice of skin between the middle part of my hair.

Her answer is commonly no but occasionally she will meet the panic in my eyes with an affirming, yes Christina, you are looking a little cracked.

Cracked usually finds me during particularly long and useless meetings where middle-aged mansplainers delight in teaching me about the power and reach of Facebook events. The moment is almost always prefaced by a rambling of their qualifications. Indeed, the knowledge you gained from creating that Facebook group of your family members does surpass my knowledge gained from a college degree and real-life work experience. 

Cracked, also crawls up inside of me when I am sitting at the kitchen table of a friendly pontificator listening to her discuss all of the reasons her part-time job is horrible. Yes, I too long for the day you become a stay-at-home mother so I can quit listening to this trash.

Cracked, is never prefaced by a, how are you, Christina? Or a, do you have time to take on these six new projects?

Cracked is a feeling of fog. It is when I feel so overwhelmed by the details or task at hand that I simply can’t receive one more word. The symptoms of cracked are commonly an empty expression on my face accompanied by a series of head nods and grunts of approval. 

It wasn’t until some recent prolonged exposure to cracked that I was able to put a deeper meaning to it. I know cracked crawls into my gaping mouth when I leave it wordless but I wanted to understand more about the details of its existence.

Cracked, what is your mating call? How are you doing? Tell me about the book you're writing?

Maybe I can soothe cracked by offering it the questions that are rarely offered to me.

Cracked, where do you live?

I always thought that you made your home on my back but I am starting to wonder if you find your home in the mouths of friendly pontificators. When they open their mouths to spew their emptiness you make your exit and crawl into mine. It does take some time for you to crawl up my body but eventually, you enter my mouth and hide in the gap where my wisdom teeth used to be. 

Or maybe cracked makes its home in the fringes. When I stray too far from my path and the authentic words I find there I pick up Cracked like that foot fungus I got while in India.

Just like that fungus, cracked is not easy to get rid of. I have to wear clean white cotton socks to prevent myself from more exposure to the elements that gave me the fungus, to begin with.

Maybe the same goes for cracked, instead of covering myself with clean white cotton I could cover myself with words of my own.

I suppose I could try saying - Dear mansplainer, the Facebook group you created so your siblings can share pictures of their toddlers and craft beers in no way correlates with the work I am doing for you all.

Or- Dear friendly pontificator, here’s a wild idea, if you hate your job so much maybe you should make some changes, or just find a new one. And no, I don’t think having another baby will suddenly give you a substantial life. 

Covering my body with truthful and authentic words is the best resistance to the friendly pontificators and mansplainers of the world. It creates a slippery surface over all of your corners that prevent their words from sticking to your soft spots.

It also serves as a supreme defense against cracked. The slimy words of truth prevent cracked from getting the hold it needs on the back of your leg to begin its long climb to your mouth. 

But do not fret, even if you let your guard down and cracked begins to find its way up your body, as one last-ditch effort to save yourself you can fill your mouth with words. I don't mean grunts of affirmation, but bulky truth-filled words that consume all of the remaining space.