When my only words are metaphors...

What do you do when all the puzzle pieces fit together, but the picture isn’t the one on the box?

I didn’t know the answer to that. Because this question held more weight than it was coming off as. The question wasn’t asking how I’d act. Would I yell, cry, break it up, laugh….? This self-addressed question was asking me: “What now? How do you fix this?” 

I stared at my puzzle for a long time and thought about it. I had many options. 

1) I could return the product, demand compensation, and fume…

2) I could learn to love the puzzle, though it features a picture of something that scares me….

3) I could accept it, and try to work it over, to make the art what it should have been….

While the answer was clearly #3, I still could bring myself to want to start. I was still upset and wasn’t sure if I was calm enough to conquer the fear and confront it with my own paint.

And then…. there’s a twist, I realize…. the puzzle may have just been mixed up. Boxes got switched all the time while moving things around… perhaps I wasn’t duked, but let my mind wander and get the best of me.

And while I wanted to believe this and take victory in it, there it is…. the cold hard realization that I can’t recall having had the impostor puzzle to begin with. So now, I am stuck again. Only, if I confront my fear of the picture…. I’m afraid it will never be as it were ever again.

So…. where do I go from here?