Today I feel like, you guessed it, a broken ceramic pot. You know the kind. Once lovely, shiny and new. Not too pretty or anything, plain, useful and strong. But I've been bumped a few times, knocked, even dropped a handful of times. But I've always held it together. Because I always knew of the potential. One can never know what my come before them, but whatever it is has the possibility of being amazing. We've held bouquets, that are beautiful, and short-lived. We've potted orchids, which are lovely, and while finicky, are probably the best companions. We've housed amaryllis bulbs who deceivingly emerge with nearly all of the beauty one can imagine. And we've embraced Daisies, our favourite, whose fresh scent and livelihood reminds us of spring and all the possibilities of the growing season. And between plants we've held spare objects that are require keeping, or dried seeds to be used later. Despite the bumps, cracks and chips, I've enjoyed my time, embraced the beauty around me with purpose.

But now I feel like I have been dropped and I've broken into thousands of pieces. I keep trying to glue them back together, trying to recreate me. How I want my pot back, my sense of being whole, my sense of purpose. But I cannot get the pieces to fit in the right places. The shapes don't make sense. The pieces are sharp and can cut. I'm frustrated because this used to be easy and now it is so complicated. I've tried to make a bunch of little pots but that is not working. I've tried to force pieces where they don't belong, and surprisingly they don't fit where I want them to. And my tears are ruining the view, all of the pieces look the same. Nothing is as it was and it will never be the same.

I'm trying to find the courage to be a mosaic. To put the pieces together again, not to be a pot but something else with purpose. Something undefined. Something that may go against the convention of society but has an equal place within it. There is a tiny seed of change that was in the pot when it fell, and that seed is now part of me too. I will try to nurture that seed, embrace that seed, house it, hold it and give it a home. Turns out I am probably not a pot, while I enjoyed and and was good at it, it wasn't all of me. I was hiding most of me, inside. Those pieces are me, and I will not feel whole with all of my pieces until I accept each and every one of them as part of me. My goal is to work on this mosaic, to put the pieces in their own place, where each belongs and feels right. I need to use acceptance as grout to hold us together. For right now I am a pile of broken ceramic, but one day I hope to be a mosaic.

Sam