My head hurts. Pressure over my right eye, as usual. Just took some Excedrin.
I had a pretty good day. Barb thinks my strategy is broken, not me. I’m sick of people telling me I’m not broken. What Barb said about there being opportunity for change in my relationships gave me a little bit of hope. But it doesn’t mean I’m not broken.
I know there is something fundamentally wrong with me. Deep down in my core I know it. My body itself and my brain do not work right. Religion tells us to be broken and beautiful. I am. I’m accepting the fact that I’m not perfect. I do have flaws and I have to live with them. I have to love myself in spite of them and love them as well. I am complete in my brokenness. I am a whole human being.
Being broken isn’t a bad thing. It’s natural. Accepting the brokenness, seeing the beauty seems out of the ordinary. It shouldn’t be. I’m tired of hiding in shame, feeling like I’m a horrible person. I’m not. I’m different, but that doesn’t mean bad.
Evaluating who I really am, what I actually have and have to offer allows me to choose what to do with it, where to go, who I want to hang on to and who it’s probably time to let go. Because being broken shouldn’t take my happiness. And I shouldn’t give it away.
It is the pieces that make me strong. My skills and talents all come from the cracks. Each new line brings opportunity through pain and then encouragement. If I wasn’t broken I wouldn’t be where I am or know what I do or have the same compassion for others. I might also not be as cynical or jaded, but it comes with the territory.
I feel proud to be broken. Empowered through brokenness.