Living in Fragments: Piecing Together a Life Lived in Motion

For more than twenty years, I have lived a life in motion. Some chapters were brief while others were more stable. Each has shaped me in ways I’m still unpacking. This way of living has also fragmented my sense of self. I’m starting to reconnect with these pieces while building something new in Vallarta: honouring what was, grieving what’s been lost, and exploring what it means to feel whole in the midst of it all.

This poem is a reflection of that journey.

Fifty-five pieces.
Fifty-five fragments.
Fifty-five versions of myself
That have existed across time and space.

Each one unique.
Each one adapting, learning, growing,
Trying to fit in,
Trying to find his place in the world.

Some versions are more familiar than others.
Some feel like strangers.
Versions I know existed,
That surface in photos,
But that I don’t connect with
Or relate to.

Some lived for weeks,
Others for years.
But even amongst stability, there was chaos:
Moving houses, changing jobs,
Living through a global pandemic.

Stability is a word I know only in theory,
Something I crave,
But have never truly built.

My adult life has been so fragmented
Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,
Scattered across countries, cultures, and contexts.
Choices I made of my own free will.

A quest to belong.
To find myself.
To live new experiences, see the world, and grow.
To outrun the pain of my childhood,
The shame and self-hatred from being queer
In a heteronormative world that didn’t make space for difference.

But somewhere along the way,
In all the movement,
I created the very disconnection I was trying to avoid.

In running from place to place,
I lost touch with the person I am.

I want to connect with these lost pieces.
To rebuild the jigsaw puzzle that is my life.

But can these pieces truly be put back together?
And do I need to rebuild my puzzle to feel whole? 

Or can I accept that some pieces are lost,
That some are better left unexplored?

How do I reconcile all of these fragmented parts?
How do I reconnect with the person that got lost in the chaos?

Maybe I never will.
And maybe that’s okay.

What matters more is the version of myself here in the present.
The one who is more loving, more compassionate, more kind.
The one who is still growing, still feeling,
Still building something meaningful.

A part of me is grieving.
Grieving the pieces,
The fragments,
The versions of myself that I’ve lost touch with.

But I’m also living.
Focusing on the present moment
Because that’s all I really have.
The past, the future
Are outside my control.

And though parts of me may be lost forever,
That doesn’t mean I’m broken.
That I’m not whole.

I can rebuild my puzzle.
Not with the pieces that are gone,
But by filling in the gaps
With new parts of me that are still forming.

Maybe it’s about creating, rather than uncovering.
With each new step,
New experience,
New moment that I’m living.

And maybe that’s all I need.

Closing Reflection

While I’ll always carry pieces of the past, I don’t need to fit them all back together to feel whole. I’m learning that healing isn’t about reconstructing what was, but about being present with what is and choosing what comes next.