Big Girl Panties Diaries — Entry #72: Duct Tape, Mascara, and Other Ways I Hold It Together
Some days, holding it together feels like an Olympic sport—minus the medal ceremony and with a lot more chai lattes. The outside world sees the “composed professional” version of me: calm tone, confident smile, maybe even a blazer that doesn’t have dog hair on it.
Inside? I’m juggling a to-do list that’s breeding like rabbits, emotional landmines disguised as “quick questions,” and the deep, primal urge to crawl under my desk and watch Instagram Reels until further notice.
Let’s be real—nobody has it all together. The trick isn’t never losing it. The trick is learning the fine art of the temporary patch job—just enough duct tape to get through the day until you can collapse into your yoga pants and binge Virgin River until your brain finally believes everything’s going to be okay.
Case in point: Last month, Hailey had another specialist appointment—one of those high-stakes, four-hour marathons where I have to be part mom, part medical historian, and part human clipboard. I sat there smiling, nodding, and asking all the right follow-up questions while inside, my chest felt like it was in a vice grip.
The doctor tossed out a phrase that made my stomach drop. I wanted to cry right there in the exam room, but I knew I had to keep my voice steady for Hailey. She watches my face for cues—if I look calm, she feels calm.
We’ve been here before—hoping for progress, sometimes celebrating the “not that” moments like in Entry #61: When “Not That” Is Still a Win, and learning to keep steady until we have the full picture.
So I smiled, asked for clarification, and took notes like it was just another Tuesday. Later that night, after she went to bed, I finally let myself unravel—wine in hand, Virgin River on the TV, and a box of tissues by my side.
These days, my hot yoga practice is what’s keeping me sane. Ninety-five degrees, ninety minutes, and the constant reminder to find balance—not in a big-picture “life vision board” kind of way, but literally on an hour-by-hour basis. There’s no “holding it together for the next six months” in there—it’s “can I hold this pose for ten more seconds?”
It’s my own version of “finding the heat” from Entry #70: Tapas Isn’t Just for Dinner—except instead of holding a pose, sometimes it’s holding my tongue in a meeting.
That mindset has bled into everything else. There are things I’ve had to outsource. There are things I’ve decided to let slide. And I’ve made peace with knowing I can’t do it all—just like I learned when I wrote Entry #64: Creating Margin. White space isn’t laziness; it’s survival.
At work, that same skill—staying composed and focusing on the next right move—has become my superpower. Whether it’s guiding a team through change, managing a crisis, or fielding tough questions in a meeting, people are watching your face for cues. If you look steady, they feel steady.
It’s not about faking it forever. It’s about containing the moment so you can deal with the emotions in the right time and place—without letting panic leak into the room and multiply. That’s something I’ve explored before in Entry #55: What Your Energy Says When You’re Not Speaking.
Over the years, I’ve mastered a few strategies for holding it together without completely falling apart:
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Bathroom Crying is a Power Move. You can sob in a stall, pull yourself together with Visine and a deep breath, and still crush your 2 p.m. presentation.
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Fake Calm Until It’s Real. You don’t need all the answers—just enough composure that people think you do.
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Mascara Lies. Unless it’s waterproof, it will betray you at the first sign of workplace BS.
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Humor Buys You Time. A well-timed joke can defuse a meltdown—yours or someone else’s.
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Outsource Your Chill. Phone a friend who knows exactly how to talk you down without telling you to “just relax” (the most unrelaxing phrase in existence).
Sometimes what I need in those moments isn’t heroic—it’s small, simple, and human. Like I wrote in Entry #68: What Do You Need?, asking for it is the hard part.
The point isn’t perfection. It’s survival—with style. Because holding it together doesn’t mean you never unravel—it means you choose when, where, and with whom you do it.
Big Girl Panties Diaries Rule: Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is hold it together with paperclips and prayer until you’re somewhere safe enough to fall apart.