Too many pockets?

In response to a friend's inquiry about my well being, I try to explain how overwhelmed I feel. I find myself saying "my life has too many compartments." It is like a coat with too many pockets. There are those pockets which are stuffed and overflowing, constantly requiring attention and those completely neglected; ones you feel guilty about for not having reviewed their contents, and ones you long to dive into and hide. There are quite a few you didn't know were part of the coat at the outset. Who could have known ; a simple twist and you have another pocket to attend to. I think " if only I could be more organized" but wouldn't that just be more pockets within pockets all lined up in pretty rows? What of those deep and cozy pockets you can thrust your hands into as you inhale slowly the natural world and exhale into true bliss ? There are never enough of those, amongst the torn and frayed edged pockets and ones not yet completely sewn on. Always there is at least one hidden pocket, deep and dark, where you never venture; pockets you pretend are not part of the coat.
My spinning head attaches to a new idea, a revelation; maybe, just maybe, this coat needs some alterations, some attention from a tailor with a needle and thread and even (a radical thought ) a pair of scissors.
This coat has so much value and beauty. There must be a thread that connects all these pockets. I reflect and hope that this thread starts in the breast pocket and returns to it. Perhaps it has gotten too slack in some places, too tight in others. I believe I need to pay attention to this thread; to kindly examine it and offer it some tender loving care. Then maybe this coat won't feel so heavy, and will fit me better.