The Gold in the Cracks

This Thanksgiving, I found myself reflecting on the life I built in this house and the years I’ve spent letting it go.

I’ve been unraveling myself from this marriage for a long time. The cracks started to show years ago, but instead of walking away, I tried to mend them. I adapted, I worked harder, I held on tighter. I thought if I poured enough of myself into it, I could make it whole again.

For the past two holiday seasons, I believed they might be our last in this house. Each year, I braced myself for the final goodbye, but I couldn’t find a way out. I stayed, clinging to tradition, hoping it could hold us together. I treated this life like kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. I thought I could fill the cracks with love, with effort, with memories.

But kintsugi only works when the pieces are ready to be mended. And some cracks can’t be repaired, no matter how much gold you pour into them.

This holiday season, I’m mourning, not just the loss of my marriage or this house, but the future I thought I was building here. The traditions I created, the memories I clung to, the dreams I had for my family. They weren’t just tied to this space, they were tied to the person I thought I was.

Letting go feels like shattering the pottery all over again. It’s messy, painful, and exhausting. But as I sit in the middle of these broken pieces, I’m starting to understand what kintsugi really means. It’s not just about filling the cracks; it’s about honoring the story they tell, even when the piece can no longer be made whole.

For years, I lost myself trying to repair something that couldn’t be saved. I gave and gave, believing I could fix things if I just gave a little more. Now, I’m learning to let go, not just of the house or the marriage, but of the belief that I could make it work if I tried harder.

I don’t know what the holidays will look like next year. I don’t know what my new traditions will be or how I’ll create a sense of home in a new place. But I’m trying to trust that the pieces I’m carrying forward are enough.

To anyone who’s mourning a life you built but can’t live in anymore: I see you. It’s okay to grieve for the cracks you couldn’t fill. It’s okay to feel lost as you let go of the dreams that didn’t come true. And it’s okay to take your time piecing yourself back together.

You’re not broken. You’re becoming.