A Million Little Pieces

I feel like I am made up of a million little pieces. They all want to find a good place to fit in. As if my time is the most desired of real estate. There are bigger pieces than others, of course. The big ones always beat the smaller ones, well, because that is life. Survival of the fittest.

I always try to stack them all up, these pieces. Make them fit so everyone gets a turn or feels loved – paid attention to. I generally start with the biggest pieces first because they are easiest to pile on to. Just like a child stacking blocks, I know the bigger ones make a good foundation on which to build. As if my life is as simple as building a Lego tower. Except we all know Legos are not simple. There are rules and directions and thought that needs to be put into it. It is a work in progress. Always building, changing, knocking over and starting again.

I feel so accomplished when I can stack them all. When I can make them fit. This is not generally the case. Most times, somewhere in the middle of the stacking and strategical planning, one falls. That one piece falling can send my entire tower tumbling down. I have no choice but to pick up the pieces and start over, again. Stacking one by one on top of the other, praying I can find a way to make them all fit. Make them all happy. It always seems as if there is a middle piece feeling squeezed too tight in the middle – not getting enough of what it needs.

It’s as if these million little pieces control me instead of me them. They have me trained that I need to find the time to make it all work. They all feel as though they are most important and sometimes, there just isn’t enough time or room for them all.  I run out of time and am so tired, so very, very tired. I try and choose the most important pieces at that given moment, but surely that will hurt another’s feelings or mean something is not getting done. Because truth be told, a million pieces is a lot to fit in and sometimes there is never enough time to fit them. To stack them without them falling – because starting over is sometimes more than I can handle.

I will continue to stack and sort. To try and prioritize which pieces go where (dinner with kids over laundry, relaxing with husband over dishes, grocery shopping over cleaning, exercising over sleep and work over everything else.) I will build – and keep building. I will watch my pieces, stacked so carefully, wobble and weave some days but gather the strength to hold their own. I will then watch them as they crumble and fall other days. All I can do is try again, and keep trying, hoping I will find the time and energy to pick them up and stack again. This time making them all fit.


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