I know this will come as a complete shock to anyone who knows me, but yesterday I was given the official diagnosis of "wrapped-too-tight". What? Me? The super hero of all super heroes? This reminds me of my favorite line in Five for Fighting's "Superman": Even heroes have the right to bleed. I'm trying to "bleed" now, and this is not a simple task for someone who carries the weight of her world around on her slumped shoulders. To say that I've been "under pressure" lately is the understatement of the century, and I'm one of those people who carry stress so well that I don't notice it. Interrupted sleep. Jolts running through my muscles. Weird pains in my back and legs. Racing thoughts. I push through the subtle warning signs in a frantic attempt to duct tape my world together and keep up the appearance that it's all under control. It's not. Well, not completely. And that duct tape is just so tempting. Armed with this n