We are all broken. We all have a story.
A time that someone ripped out our heart. A time when someone we loved died. A time when someone yelled at us so cruelly and shattered our self-esteem. A time when our entire world broke and we woke up the next morning to see that the sun just kept on shining even though our inner world was shattered.
We are all broken but that's how the light enters us. Or it's how the light that we already have shining inside of us escapes to reach others. It escapes through our broken cracks.
All any of us wants is someone who understands. Someone who says to us, "My world stopped, too. My heart shattered, too. And I was drowning. And I was angry. And I felt unloved and unworthy." Isn't that what we all want? We want to hear others stories. Real, raw stories.
Or is it just me? Is it because I feel so alone in my widowhood? No girlfriend to commiserate with over the woes of being a young widow. I want to roll over in bed and say to my husband, "Holy SH#T. Did you hear you're dead? How am I going to deal with this? How am I going to live with a broken and bleeding heart? Can you hold me?" But, I roll over and he's not there. There's just a huge empty place in my bed where he slept for all those years.
This is why I keep writing. Why I keep blogging, and posting on Facebook and reaching out and answering emails. Because I also need to know that I'm not alone. I, too, feel broken. I want to let my light shine out of those broken cracks to reach others whom have walked in my exact shoes. I reach out with my words so that I can find the others. The other broken ones. Why? This is why....
So maybe being broken isn't a bad thing. Maybe we need to stop internally putting ourselves down because of it. It isn't a shameful thing to be broken hearted. It only means that you know how to love. Sure, I wish every day that this tragedy never knocked on my door. I wish every single morning to roll over and have my best friend sleeping next to me. I wish every day to hear his boots in the hallway. I'd risk it all to have him back. But, this isn't a fairytale. I have no magic ball and there is just no going back. Maybe being broken is how we find our humanity.
Maybe it's how we find our true appreciation of life. Only in my sorrow has a beautiful sunny day brought me to tears.....of joy. Only in my sorrow have I truly understood that love never dies. Yes, my husband is dead. But also yes, he sends me messages of love. He sends me songs on the radio that only him and I would know were ours. He blows out lightbulbs when I'm in our basement crying. He sends dragonflies when our children are laughing. He comes to me in my dreams and tells me to be happy, to live, to let go a little bit more. Maybe being broken is how we find our understanding, our grace, our gratitude. Without my brokenness my light most likely would have never made it out of my soul to lead me to my purpose. Without my brokenness I wouldn't get teary eyed just from hearing the exact same Bruno Mars song every single place I go.
Hello, my name is Nik and I have a broken heart. And yes, I'm doing things to help me find the joy and the desire to keep on living. And yes, I am looking for the joy. But I'm not exactly trying to "fix" my broken heart. It's apart of me. It makes me who I am. My life's story makes me more compassionate. My tragedy made me fall into my purpose. Almost every person whom I have ever loved has hurt me, yelled at me, broke me, left me. I'm one of those people now who would be more surprised if someone actually stayed. And yes, I can feel joy again. I have days that I feel happy again. I have found my soul and have fallen into my purpose. And yes, I still have days that I feel unworthy. I still have days that I wonder how it's all going to really work out for me. And then I remember to live in the now. To take it day by day by day. I only now truly understand that we only have today. All we have is what is happening right now. The past is gone and the future isn't ours yet. We can plan and plan for the future, but there is no knowing that we will even make it to Friday.
We are broken, most of us, in some way or another. Someone broke a piece of our heart that we will never get back, that cannot be fixed or glued or fully healed.
So right now? Pull the bandaid off the cracks of your broken heart and let the light in.
"A person once asked me what was my religion? I answered.........All paths that lead to the light."