There is a scene in the film Broadcast News where powerful, talented and driven news producer Jane Craig (played by Holly Hunter), puts everything aside and breaks down in tears. I’m not actually a big fan of the movie, but I am a big fan of the scene. And of a good cry.

Most of the time I’m “trying to do it all… and do it well.” I don’t think about all the directions I’m being pulled, or the responsibilities I have. I not only don’t have the time for such self-reflection, I’m afraid that if I did make a list – kids, husband, family, home, career, clients, co-workers, meals, bills, laundry, plants, pets, volunteer – I might be forced to hide under my bed. And I didn’t even include the advice I hear most often, “make sure I take time to look after myself.” So add exercise, groom, floss, get a hobby and schedule my annual physical to the expanding list.

But every once in a great while it all catches up with me and the walls start tumbling down. There is a minor, meaningless event – such as stepping on a stray Hot Wheels car with my bare foot – that sets off a chain reaction. Every minor insult, slight, pain or annoyance is recalled, magnified and compounded. The chink, once created in my armor, widens and the flood begins.

The downside to adulthood is you can’t generally have these breakdowns in public, in front of your family or within earshot of co-workers. It tends to freak people out when a grown woman throws herself on the floor and bursts into tears. And let’s face it; some of today’s fashions are just not floor-friendly.

I have found my car is an excellent place for the momentary emotional breakdown. You can cry, scream or talk to yourself without an audience – unless you count the passing motorists. And what are they going to do? It’s not like crying in the car is any stranger than singing. Or shaving. Plus, if the trip is long enough you can point the vents up to your face to help dispel the tears and flush from a good outburst, and there are plenty of mirrors available to use for a quick makeup check.

This week I had a great cry because I was feeling underappreciated.

Of course I know I’m appreciated. I’m a good mom, a good wife, a good friend, a good neighbor, and good at my job. At times I’m even excellent at all of the above (but rarely at the same time). But on this particular day I found myself overwhelmed by the minutiae, which allowed self-doubt to creep in… I could do more crafts with my kids, be a better housekeeper, reach out to distant friends, help out the neighbors and do more at work. The death spiral had begun.

In retrospect it all could have been avoided with a simple “good job” from someone. Anyone! Plus, it would prevent me from doing a terrible imitation of Stuart Smalley from Saturday Night Life (“I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and gosh darn it people LIKE me!”)

I’m doing fine now. I had my cry and at Spin class (good, sweaty exercise is almost as effective as a good cry) that evening I got my validation. Within one hour the instructor told me four times that I was doing an excellent job.

It doesn’t take much to get back on track, does it?

Thank goodness.