I cried for a lot of reasons. Reasons like I don't know how to handle situations like that, I feel like I am in a string of bad luck, and I just felt like nothing was going to go right for me.
But mostly I cried because the shattered glass splayed across my car and the road was a strong reminder of what my heart feels like. At times, I can literally feel the shards broken apart rattling around inside my rib cage. And when I get those questions I hate to answer from a co-worker, or something else seems to go the way I don't want it to I can feel the giant sharp pieces being pulled out of me before I'm ready to let them go.
Each piece of glass poking through my insides has different edges that cut through me. The edges remind me that I don't have a plan for next year. That I will not be there to see my now 8th graders grow into even more mature adults. Reminders that my supportive co-workers will not always be around to support me. It seems like a big chunk of glass tears through me every day.
But what about those small, glittering specks of glass? The tiny one's that you always hurt the most, the one's that always cut your fingers. How long will I be pulling those out of my heart?
When I first moved to NYC, my car's windows were all shattered. They stole everything that I had left in the car over night. At that moment, I felt just like you, that nothing was ever going to go wrong. I felt like the shattered windows of my car reflected my shattered marriage and my loneliness in a big city.
ReplyDeleteA year later, things are better. I'm happier. You will be too, friend :)