Footsteps

I am Broken.
I know i am Broken, i know that i am Damaged.
For as long as i can recall i have known that i am Broken, Damaged beyond repair. At least to my previous state of self. I am far too damaged for that to be possible (in any meaningful sense). Would i do so if it were?
To be whole. To be intact. To be pristine. What would that be like.
That is something i cannot even imagine. All i can remember is being broken; before i even realised that i was. These cracks & chips eroding my sense of self, they were normal, weren't they. Part of growing up.

So why didn't that seem right.
So why was it i felt there was something wrong. I tried to consider that normal. I was the same as everyone else.
Truth be told, i wasn't very convincing.
& i knew it.

Comparing myself to those about, there was something missing. Comparing myself to those around the same age, the difference was obvious.
I was damaged. I was Broken.
I had no idea as to the cause, i only knew that i was.
Not much to go on, is it.
Perhaps i really was as crazy as others around me seemed to think - & still do. There were times i even believed that, embraced it.

Realising that didn't help.
Realising that only served to cloud my sight & cause me to stumble & lose my path.

I am Broken!
I am Damaged!
I am defined by that.

Yet, knowing that, i regain a measure of control over my thoughts, my actions, my pieces of self as they slither through my fingers.

Which means i can find my feet again.

Facades

Robin Williams has often come to mind this past month. I cannot quite explain why. Perhaps it is on account of the fact that his passing seems little remembered; one year on.
Has he passed out of memory in this time of instant gratification, when last weeks or last months fashion, fad or foible is out of date & forgotten.
In ending his own life, has his very name become anathaema. In his choosing to do so, has he now become tainted & shameful in many people's eyes.

Looking at that phrase: the funniest man, saddens me so. In giving pleasure to so many people, perhaps his way of battling his own demons, just how much did he retain for himself?

No longer can we ask of him, we can only make a guess as to just what his answer might have been.

Most likely he would have made a joke to throw people off the scent, or given a truly honest answer in such a way that it was perceived as such: a joke. After all, he was the 'world's funniest man'! How conceivable could it be that he waged such a dark & dismal battle.

Such was his success in concealing this part of himself that the tragedy was the greater once the news of his passing was released.
Perhaps that is why his passing resonates so much with me. This past fortnight in particular.
Behind the facades we show all others....

Behind our facades that we feel we are compelled to display....

Now that's the Tragedy!

Broken

Many of us know we are Broken to some extent, like a dropped cup. I know that i am. More than once. Sometimes the fractures are new, yet most of the time they follow the same pattern of breakage. Regardless of the number of sherds i pick up, there is always a tiny piece or two that has crumbled away.

Not always do i use glue to stick my shattered shards of self back into place. Sometimes it is all I can do to apply a band-aid to at least keep the pieces together - in one place. They may not always fit too well as i fumble to put them on their rightful place. I may not always be ready or able. Which is where the band-aid comes in handy.

It may remain in place for some time.


Curious things, habits. Excluding the obvious, most people do not realise they have them. A routine by any other name .....


Knowing that i am Broken (or at least seriously cracked) then the gathered pieces stuck back together again (usually by myself), i am aware of my damage, & those lines where i am likely to break once more. At some point, along some line or other.

In that case, it would be reasonable to alter all those behaviours, beliefs & practices that result in the need for repair; so avoid a repeat.
So you would think.

Knowing that i am Broken i am aware of the need for change, that i am capable of modifying those particular practices, beliefs & behaviours. So break that inncumbent pattern, so give a different result, so prevent a repeat. So you would think. Simple!

That would be the logical, rational, thing to do, that would make sense. & really rather obvious. Simple! So you would think.

If only.

Pattern, habit, routine become ingrained before people realise they have them. So to thought processes. Even more resistant to change.


Mental illness (i hear sighs of relief that finally i have reached some point), Mental Illness works to its own set of rules & rationality. Often incomprehensible to an onlooker - with their clumsy, if well-meaning "cheer up!" - & often much the same to those who have to live with it.

Regardless of cause, Mental Illness is always debillitating, those who endure Mental Illness are always dysfunctional, however much success in concealing this. Functionality is relative.

Like the pottery i have been (however vaguely) alluding to, once broken then patched, will it hold the thin trickle of self-esteem at it is poured in. What of missing chips & eroded sense of self that allows everything to drain away. If not open the cracks once more.




There is a Japanese art, kintsukuroi (or kintsugi), which is the art of repairing pottery with gold laquer; & understanding that the piece is even more beautiful than before it was broken.

I ask you to look at those sherds of your self you hold in your hands while you piece them into place; to consider them with kindness, to speak to your battered sherds of self with courtesy.

Look at them, look at everything just a little differently, with consideration.

Yes, we are broken, we know we are broken, like that dropped cup, yet when we allow our self the mindfulness & compassion we apply to others - just for a change - that is golden!

With that for glue as you rebuild (rather than just repair or reconstruct) just see what you will have to show your Self.