My Heart Is Remarkably Similar to a Jenga Tower

As I write this, I have a dog's butt wiggling in my face, two different aunts sitting on top of me, and a killer stomach ache because I ate a mountain of ice cream even though I know it makes me sick.

Okay so it is the next day and none of this is still happening (except the stomach ache--blugh) but I enjoy the picture that went along with that last part so I'm not going to delete it.  This post was originally going to be about what I am thankful for, but, it turns out, I learned something more significant (well, significantly cheesy, if you will)about myself.  Since no one actually really reads my blog, I can feel like I told someone about it without actually really telling anyone (just because I said that TONS of people are going to read this.... hehe jokes).  To the self-proclaimed ice queen, cringe as much as you want, but props to me for blogging outside of it being an assignment.

The scenario is this: My anxiety is raging as the whole family and I sit around the dining room table playing a game of Jenga. If you don't know what Jenga is take a look at the photo to your right.  A tower is built up and everyone takes turns pulling out a block from the tower and then setting it on top.  The person to make the tower fall loses.  In short, it is incredibly tedious and nerve-racking if you are the competitive sort.  As I watch the tower become more fragile, teetering back and forth with each pull, I realize I'm watching a real-life scenario of my heart.  CRASH. The tower refuses to support one more tug and it collapses. Jenga.

My heart started off as this sturdy tower.  As life goes, shitty stuff happened, and people or things took my blocks and pulled them out.  At first the missing blocks didn't make much of a difference, but as time went on I began to wiggle and wobble back and forth precariously because my support was diminishing.  And then one day, he decided to pull the last block holding my heart together.  Or actually, I think he decided to take his fist and shoot it right through that heart of mine.  No longer was there a tower, but bits and pieces of blocks scattered across the table.  So what did I do?  I did the only thing I could.  I picked up those blocks and I put that tower back together.  All sturdy and new... well almost.  Those blocks still have dents and bruises and those blocks still remember the last time they were pulled apart.  So I keep going and going every day and people pull at my blocks and I can't stop them because it isn't my turn.  I rebuild and I learn.  I strategize on how to protect those blocks from getting pulled. How to keep the dog from chewing on the pieces that have already been taken.  And I remember, that even if my tower falls again, I can still rebuild it. Always.