I read a quote many years ago that said “All the best people are broken”.
I believe that to be true. I look around at me, and my close circle; there is not one among us that has not gone through hell and back and somehow survived. It makes us not only stronger, but wiser, and more compassionate. We understand that we can’t know someone else’s journey, because we have not walked it. We can sympathize, we can empathize but we do not judge. Everyone has their own struggle, no matter how small it may seem to the outside world, to them it is tremendous.
I’ve been through a lot in my 42 years. I’ve lost many people I cared about, including my dad when I was 17. I lost the woman who helped raise me and care for me 2 years later. I made poor (very poor) relationship choices in my youth. I’ve been humiliated, abused, taken for granted, disrespected and beaten. All of those things were done to me by people who should have loved me.
Every time I am broken I sweep up the pieces and reassemble them. They don’t always fit back together the same way. Sometimes the edges are jagged and have to be trimmed in order to work. Sometimes parts are too damaged so they are discarded entirely.
I think in the end, what I’m left with, and what I see in others, is that over time, the defective and inferior parts disappear. We are left with the pieces we choose because we see their value.
When I put myself back together, there may be holes in my patchwork, but I believe those are simply waiting for the right person to fill in the cracks.
I have been beaten down, broken, shattered, but never destroyed. I bleed when the splinters are swept up. I have scars and scabs. I have new pieces that grew to take the place of ones lost.
I am broken, and that’s ok. Broken made me who I am today. Broken never erased me.
Don’t be afraid of broken people. We really are ok.