“Are you anybody else’s missing piece?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Well, maybe you want to be your own piece?’
‘I can be someone’s and still my own.’
‘Well, maybe you don’t want to be mine.’
‘Maybe I do.” 

The Missing Piece by Shel Silverstein



I’m trying to think of a word to describe what it is I’m feeling. The things I’m going through are by far NOT the worst things I’ve gone through in my life. I keep telling myself this fact. However, this is the first time in my life in which I don’t have a rock. A support system in which I am totally comfortable that I will not be judged. And maybe, I didn’t ever really, as I tend to keep the BIG BAD things private and only complain/whine/vent about things that will ultimately work out. Those things are just life nuisances…life happens and you deal. Perhaps I come off as just a whiner, dramatic…a rambling lunatic. Or as someone who kindly described me once:  “A fucking psycho.”


I’ve written before about how certain people in my life misunderstand me and sometimes I can’t help but think it goes deeper than that. I’m truly overwhelmed by life right now and whilst this revelation is probably not a shock by anyone who knows me…I’m still finding myself in this internal turmoil. I honestly don’t know how else to describe it. All I know is that there is something wrong in my life and the universe is blasting it in my face constantly. There’s a glitch in the system. This has happened before when I’m off my path…stumbling blocks the size of boulders are rolled towards me at a rapid speed. I go five steps forward, but knocked ten steps back.


I walk up the stairs to my office, which isn’t really an office, a corner cubicle with huge glass windows that looks out towards west downtown Anchorage and I take multiple deep breaths. There is a beauty to this side of Anchorage, despite all the buildings. It’s cloudy, yet as I’m watching people walk busily down the street…I am comforted by their presence. Perhaps one of  those people who is hurrying to their office has gone or is going through the same things as I am. And they’re surviving. They’re doing it.

That means I can too.

A month ago, I felt beaten, despondent and lost. I have been holding onto those feelings for over a year, possibly more. I gave up on life, to be honest,  although I kept a pretty believable façade. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was just all the booze numbing my senses into thinking I was fooling everyone. It all boils down to the fact I was trying to fit into a place in which I never would have wanted to be to begin with. Not that I’m better or worse…I’m just me.

I’m a missing piece that hasn’t found the right fit yet.

I’m almost there.

Almost. But not quite.


Anne Lamott says,“God loves us just the way we are, and He loves us too much to let us stay that way.”


That sounds pretty fitting to me.





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