The beauty of (in) brokenness

Can someone like me, having shared in yesterday’s post that most of my life I grew up thinking how "fucked-up” I was, figure this thing out? Can someone like me, who just made yet another ‘mistake’, explain why there is a great beauty in things broken? 

The answer is: Who else!?

Adam and I had plans for tonight and I absolutely sabotaged it. Instead of letting him help me with a banal thing, I pulled out at the last minute and made my own arrangements. Did I do it so I wouldn’t have to feel indebted to his goodwill? 

I’m learning that sex is not the only kind of 'payoff' when you are dating. But what is? I constantly wonder, and that’s the way my world goes around. Maybe I just wanted to feel in control.

I didn’t get his cheeky way of bantering me. I don’t believe it was a language issue, as some teasing is universal, it was probably a boy & girl way of communicating made more difficult by my old pattern. Which one was it this time? 

The “Let’s get out of here before I start getting uncomfortable” ?

His way of thinking just didn’t get through to me.

So I am at home. Wondering why I still act the way I do. Why do I always make plans B, C, D, Z? My chickening out possibly robbed me of having lots of fun.

I indeed “looked too much into it”, overanalyzed it, and then blew it.

Well, who said that starting to date again would be easy?

I am a little broken.

But no-one broke me but me.
Could I view it as an art?

A wise and beautiful man once told me that if he ever wanted a tattoo, he would choose the Japanese symbols for Wabi sabi and Kintsukuroi/Kintsugi. It has been on my mind ever since.

Wabi-sabi teaches that “nothing is finished, nothing lasts, nothing is perfect”¹

Kintsugi teaches that fixing broken pottery by a touch of golden lacquer to hold it together, gives it its distinctive character which is far more interesting and beautiful than the unbroken, flawless piece could have ever been. The patched-up piece of art has its unique story, its depth, and its value intact. 

I am aware how broken my English is sometimes, I am aware how broken I had let myself become before, and I am aware how my past experiences continue to shape me, change me, and transform me. The cracks of mine have been patched up by something new, unique, and distinct - “a golden lacquer”.

My foreign language wears that lacquer with pride as it still enables me to write comprehensive and comprehensible blog-posts. They are scribbled in a childlike manner sometimes - but hey, I am a broken child inside.

Many of us carry a broken child inside!

Humans get broken just as often as pottery does. We break each other’s hearts, dreams, ideas, bones, and we get broken up inside by life’s unpredictable events too.

Try wearing your brokenness with pride and praise, and see where that leads to.

I might have gone back to my old pattern tonight based on my past experiences of lack of control. 
But having learned to love my own company makes me feel grateful now for this extra time spent in a quiet contemplation and awareness of where I come from. I respect myself and my past.

Broken, unique, stronger than ever, and my own.

¹ Quoted by R.