Broken Bowls

Kintsugi: The art of scars and broken pieces

I've been gone for a while. I mean, the real "me" has been absent for a while. Maybe close to ten years. I remember my now ex mother in law asking me, "what's wrong? You aren't yourself." I'd shrug it off and say that I was tired. I was tired, and sick. I was okay there for a little bit, and I started to heal. Then the depression came. Partly due to pregnancy and the isolation of being away from home and my 'mom' issues, I lost myself. I reached out for help, and when it didn't come, I retreated within.

Then came motherhood. 

It is isolating and hard on its own. Due to my then husband's actions, my depression gave way to resentment. I pushed myself deep down, even further than before. I was operating at a baseline. I was doing what I needed to to get by day to day to day to day. 

March 31, 2020 was the last day of my submersion. 

Last night I realized my now ex boyfriend had broken something of mine. Something that was obviously broken at his hand, and he refused to fess up to it. Even when caught in the lie, he couldn't admit it. In reality, he can't face his own actions. He can't accept his own responsibilities.

I needed to get angry. I needed to drop the veil. I needed something to break. Last night, it was my patience.

At that very moment, my old self broke through. She knew that there would be no man in armor, no fill in savior. It had to be me. She broke through, and in that moment she granted me clarity.

I am more than a broken windshield. I am more than a broken car door, or a dented laptop, or a shove, punch, or slap. I realize this now. I realized this last night at 11 pm. This I will never forget. 

I'm partial to the beauty of being broken. It gives us the opportunity to find ourselves once again and rebuild upon our foundations. It helps us realize what is good for us, and the bad, and grants us the task to do better. We get to do better for ourselves.

It doesn't mean we don't get to dismiss anger.

How do things break? Sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose. Sometimes it's by someone else's hand. Last night I was fucking pissed. I felt it bubble up, and burst. Shit spewed from my soul, and it was fucking amazing. I remember feeling alive, and rejuvenated by this release. I wanted to spit fire, I wanted to fight and scream. I wanted to be loud, and make noise. I wanted to lash out against him and strike at him in any way I could.

But I didn't, and I won't.

I am working on letting this all go. A wise, yet young soul told me to remember "keep calm and carry on". He knew that I'd get it. He told me I am better than this experience, and I am deserving and worthy of more.

I am.

I am broken, but mended with gold; mended with golden words from friends and family. Allow the glue to bind the pieces back together to make a beautiful story out of heartache and pain.

Carry on.

I've probably posted this before... and kintsugi, but they are both fabulous and are both worthy of repeat.