I was afraid it wouldn’t last, and now it looks as though I was right. That carefully constructed tower of support, structure and progress is getting shakier this week as some of the building blocks crumble away. I’m so afraid it will crash down. Each time the tower starts to fall, it’s harder. Each time my resilience cracks further. Each time I wonder how I will make it through the emotional debris. How I will scaffold the remaining blocks so we can make it through another winter with enough shelter from the storms that life throws at us.
Like a Jenga tower, our lives are already full of holes. Plugged as best I can, with the help of family, friends and services. Like most people, we muddle through, coasting one minute and firefighting the next.
One service came through for me today. I asked for help, and the call was returned. A plan was developed and I was kept busy. But best of all, there was an unexpected follow up call to check that all is okay. There are good people out there, and even when it feel like life is hurling Jenga blocks from all sides, there is always hope that the tower will not fall down completely.