I Am Fragile, Weak

My psychiatrist says I must now
See him every three months
So he can vigilantly observe me
Because I came nearly apart again.

The stress to which I am currently subjected
Is somewhat beyond my ordinary safety limit.
I worry about Mom obsessively and constantly,
I cannot distance myself from her plight.

I have full responsibility for care of Mom
And everything else, which is maintained here.
There is no one stepping in to render aid,
It is do-it-myself or leave it completely undone.

I am capable, and can perform most tasks
As long as no one looks too closely or asks,
“How are you doing?” I answer, “Very well.”
I will not let down my habitual trusted mask.

Underneath the well-worn façade I realize
There are cracks in my courage, my resolve,
I barely hold on to my placid existence:
I live in total abject horror of Mom’s passing.

My friends who pay close attention may
Have some awareness of my fragility,
But my family does not recognize
How very desperate I sometimes am.

I must toughen up and stand firm
For the situation will not get better
Mom’s deterioration is hastening along,
I promised to care for her, and I will.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Tuesday, May 24, 2011

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