Plate spinning

You never realize how many little pieces make up a life until it's shattered. I tend to think of it like a glass plate that falls on concrete. It shatters into pieces and splinters.

That's what divorce is like. It shatters the plate of your life into tons of pieces. Each piece has to be picked up, carefully examined, and glued back into place. But it will never really be the same.

Even though my marriage was never good and I was miserable and dreamed of a life on my own, divorce still forced me to redefine every aspect of myself and my life. In a way, each aspect is like its own glass plate, spinning on top of its own wooden rod. You've seen them, like at the circus. Taking care of the kids, their health, their school, their social lives, their character. That's a plate. Then there's the finances. That's a plate. Keeping the house clean, running efficiently and in good repair. Doing a good job at work. Keeping up with the car. The jewelry business. Relationships (i.e. being a good daughter, sister, friend). Romantic relationships. Taking care of myself. All are plates spinning in the air. And it's up to me to make sure none of them fall and break.

Sometimes that feels easy. Things are flowing along smoothly. The kids are minding, the laundry's caught up, I've spoken to a few friends and my mom. I've got life by the tail. All of the plates are up and spinning.

Sometimes, it's not so smooth, and I run back and forth between the rods, spinning the plates, making sure none of them fall. Paying the bills leaves me barely enough to buy enough gas or milk or bread to get through the week, which causes me to lose sleep. And the Finances and Taking Care of Myself plates wobble. One of the kids fails a subject at school, or is being incredibly defiant, and the Taking Care of the Kids plate wobbles. I realize that I told a girlfriend I'd call her a week ago and haven't done it yet, or I realize it's been too long since I've visited my grandmother, and the Relationships plate wobbles. And at work, maybe my mind is on the things that I have to remember to pick up on my way home, something slips or gets overlooked and the work plate wobbles. A bounced check, perhaps, and the finances plate almost hits the ground.

A couple of years ago, I thought of this single life as a juggling act. It felt like every week or two I was dropping one ball or another. But the act of keeping things going feels much more like the plate guy, running back and forth between them, making sure they all stay balanced and spinning. What I've learned is that basically, you just have to choose which plates you're willing to let fall. But even at that, you can only let so many drop. Too many just can't.

This is why I believe God arranged it for two people to raise children. It's really too much for one person. I could be so much more effective at work, for instance, if I had a spouse to shoulder some of the burden at home. Matter of fact, I know that is true. There is no way I could have done as well in school as I did if it weren't for my ex-husband. He may not have been the greatest husband, but he supported my going to college. I could not have gone to school during the day, worked at night at the newspaper and rose to the senior position at the school newspaper if he wasn't at home cooking dinner, making sure the kids did their homework, and getting them off to school on time in the morning.

The thing is, while I don't really feel I should get any special consideration because I am a single parent, I do wish people to understood that, well...I can't be perfect. That at any given time, I have about 50 things on my mind. I'd like to help that, but I can't. (I wish you could see the number of lists I have going to try to manage all those thoughts. I have singlehandedly destroyed a small forest. But I'm still thinking, dang, I'm almost out of Downey.) I feel I'm never able to do anything 100 percent well, even though I really want to. My motto has become "Do what you can, and forgive yourself for the rest." Because my house will have dust bunnies. Because my bank account will run short. Because the laundry will pile up. Because I will go too long without calling a friend. Because I will overlook something at work. Because I will forget to pick up the kids' prescriptions. Because I am only one person, who is trying to do her best. And that will just have to be good enough.