We are all broken and that's okay

Leonard Cohen, Anthem

I've been thinking about how each of us has our own scars, our own cracks, our own broken bits which we may hide or cover or bury deep within us.  Maybe not even allowing our spouses, or friends, or even ourselves to see them, to acknowledge them.  The crack may be have formed long ago in childhood, and as each year passes, the pressures of life press on it, forcing it to expand outward.  And we can keep ignoring it, but that doesn't change the fact that it's there.  Perhaps the cracks we have are from loss, from a broken heart.  Maybe we are so afraid of letting them surface that we hide them from others and ourselves.  Maybe we numb out to keep from feeling them.  There are drugs, and alcohol, food and online shopping.  Any number of things we can use to push the feelings down, to try to fill the cracks.

But those things don't work.  Maybe temporarily, but sooner or later, we are back with ourselves, back to feeling the edges of the broken bits deep inside, and no amount of anything from the outside can fill those cracks.  We are blessed and cursed by our humanity.  It is the lens through which we see and judge our own flaws.  But it is also the lens which allows us to recognize spaces in which we can grow.  

So what do we do?  Are we destined to live with the broken pieces of ourselves for the rest of our lives?  Can we change the way we see our cracks?  Can we let them become part of what makes us beautiful?

I imagine a beautiful porcelain pitcher.  It's perfect.  Flawless.  It sits, unused for years.  It remains prestine.  And yet, it is worthless.  Imagine, instead, that you use the pitcher.  For flowers.  For water.  You even let your kids use it for a pretend tea party.  It may get dropped.  Chipped.  Cracked.  But those lines, those broken bits, that's how we know it has lived.  It has been useful.  It has been loved.

So, too, with our own cracks.  Our scars.  Our chips, and our imperfections.  The things we carry with us on this journey, the broken bits we hide.  Those are proof of a life being lived.  Not sitting still, protecting ourselves from every hurt.  But... Living.  Risking.  Breathing.  Loving.  Breaking.  Rising. 

The scars we carry, the cracks, for those brave enough, vulnerable enough to let them be seen, they become a beacon to those around us.  They say I was here.  I lived.  I mattered.  

Opening up about the darkest parts of ourselves is one of the hardest things we can do in this life.  And, like most hard things, it's one of the most rewarding.  That's my goal for this blog.  To be a space to be open about hard things.  To tell the truth, even when it's scary.  Even when it hurts.  Especially when it hurts.  Because I matter.  We matter.

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love & grace -

B