Spit & Glue Hold My Pieces Together

I have balanced my life on a plate made of the finest of bone china. The plate itself is fairly nondescript, just a faint ecru with scalloped edges lined in gold, and might even be considered an antique given my age. The markings on the back indicate a skull and cross bones and don’t resemble any of the high end or even low end china manufacturers you usually are familiar with when picking your bridal registry.

The notable distinction on my plate is the faint crack that my plate has right down the center, which started out small and has grown larger as the years have grown older.  I tend to keep my plate very full and have managed to hold the pieces together with spit and glue and sometimes a good does of snarkasm and laughter.

My Plate Runneth Over

All my life, I have carried more on my delicate plate than was necessary or that it could hold.  And while things spilled over the side, and more and more fell on top of it that small fissure grew and got larger.  Elmer’s to the rescue.

I often wonder if it is a genetic makeup of mine to keep my plate running over because all the drama involved with the cracking and fixing somehow keeps me grounded and going and moving and shaking.  It keeps me from curling up in a corner and taking a hard look at my life and actually having to toss out this plate that I have relied on for 45 years and only rely on myself.

Letting the Plate Break

If like Humpty Dumpty, I let this proverbial plate break and fall, would I be able to put the pieces back together again? I honestly don’t know. People see me as strong, confident, and competent. I am a married single parent. I do it all. I am trying to earn a living and build a business, raising two children by myself with a husband who lives across the country, helping my two parents who lost everything, dealing with an eight-month chronic migraine and dealing with a difficult ex. I do these things because I have no choice.

I chose these paths thinking they would make my life easier, but in reality knew they would all make my life more difficult. The truth is, I am too afraid to put myself out there to find a job in a world where I feel I have no real skills, and feel so much safer behind this computer, it is easier dealing with a husband who lives miles away, I am tired and feel terrible all the time and would like nothing more than to burrow under my covers and never come out, but I don’t have a choice, so I use the spit and glue and refuse to let the plate break.

The Plate Will Break One Day

One day though that plate will break. I don’t know how much more I can pile onto this plate. Something’s gotta give.  I pray everyday for a break, and then something else is added to the heap. I want a breath of fresh air. I want the crack to heal. I want to start clean.

And, the funny thing about starting clean is this, if I could start clean, I probably wouldn’t change a thing, because without my issues, I wouldn’t be me, have my children, have my friends, have my life, have met Allison, have this opportunity, have found my voice or be able to share my story.

So, I guess, spit and glue isn’t so bad after all, is it?


About Lee Block:
Lee Block is a mid-life menopausal migraine-laden mother-of-two who has a masters degree from the University of Been-There-Done-That Twice and a bachelor’s degree with a double major in divorce and lessons learned. She enjoys alliteration, Mad Men, Big Bang, mixed breeds, vanilla lattes, red wine, and her kids when they aren’t killing each other.  Officially Lee Block is a certified and licensed professional divorce and life coach. You can visit her at LeeBlock.com or Post Divorce Chronicles, or on twitter or Facebook.

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