3-1-10 11:43pm

“Can anybody hear me? The silence is deafening. Why do you feel so far away?” – Meredith Andrews, Can Anybody Hear Me

My mind is racing. My body is shaking. I just keep thinking, “I am broken.” I am damaged goods. That was the core belief I was working on with Marc in the white testing dance journal in 2005 with the bubbles.

I’ve been thinking about Tim’s email, what to send back. I should’ve known. I didn’t follow the rules. (Damn I wish that song would stop.) My body is shutting down. I am broken.

There are many reasons, besides my age, someone like Tim wouldn’t want me. There are a plethora of red flags. We don’t buy broken merchandise. I don’t buy things with marred packaging. I certainly don’t want something broken. Yet, that is what I have to offer.

I am broken. My body, my heart, my mind. I have some unknown neurological movement disorder that makes me twitch and jerk like a freak. I can’t predict my level of functioning. I live with my mom and I don’t drive and don’t want to. I have insurmountable debt. I’m scared of people. I’m trying really hard not to be. I go to doctors and groups and therapy. I have mental illnesses. It’s easier to say, “I’m crazy.” People just brush it off. But most of the time I’m not crazy, just sick.

I don’t take vacations. I’ve never been on a vacation. If I mention a vacation I’m talking about spending time in the hospital. I have seen and learned a lot there, experienced. It changes you to know the system so well.

People ask how I am and I say, “Okay.” But I’m not okay… I am broken. I feel overwhelmed and hurt and scared and LONELY, and happy and sad and pissed. And I don’t know what to do with it because people don’t buy broken. The ones who do want a discount or they want to fix me. But I don’t want to be fixed. I want someone to love me for my brokenness, to love me just because.

I can’t change that I’m an old person stuck in a young person’s body that’s failing, that I love Play-Doh and touching things and all sorts of music, that I make seemingly random associations that make perfect sense only to me, or that I appreciate the little things. That’s just me. I eat hot dogs and pick dandelions and cry. I stay up all night, rock myself to sleep, and give the homeless guy on the corner my last $20 – just because. I give everything I have because I’ve got nothing to lose – only hope. And the hope comes back. It’s just a bit weaker every time.

I hate going through that process:

Don’t get excited about this person. They will hurt you.
No, he seems safe enough, even nice.
Be careful, Michelle.
No, I’m gonna take a chance.
(Feel hopeful and excited for a time – then the crash)
See, I told you they weren’t safe. You should’ve listened. You’re broken. Remember? You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve to be happy.
You’re right. If only I’d followed the rules.

But I did. I followed the one that says take chances and risks but know that you WILL get burned. I just forgot about the burn part…

Sudden exhaustion & need for more biscuits and gravy.

2 thoughts on “Broken

  1. Hey M,

    I just found your blog through the link on your Strength of Us site. I own a blog too, but am sort’ve…afraid that coworkers will find it so I keep mum about it.

    Just wanted to say that what you’re going through with that person really sucks. I know – I’m eloquent. What I mean is that I’ve been there, many, many times and it is just.. it sucks. But we have to go through the bad to get to the good. I hate that about life, but it’s one of the few things I’ve come to terms with.

    But more importantly — you DO deserve to be happy. You DO deserve someone good. And if this particular person didn’t pan out? Then he’s not the one.

    Keep on keepin’ on. You’re good people, which I can tell already from all the lovely comments I’ve heard from Dana. And you deserve the best.

    • Thanks, Bianca. The situation does suck, but it’s teaching me something. I had a good dialogue with my therapist today about it. It’s allowing me to re-evaluate who I am and what I want and what I actually have to offer.

      I get the not wanting people to see your blog. I do a lot of work in the community for mental health but I was not willing to put my last name on Strength of Us and my name is nowhere attached to this blog. That’s a step farther down the road. ;) I shared the link with a few people and I listed it on my FB info page but didn’t post it to my profile. People can stumble across it if they choose. I want to share but sharing is scary!

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