The Beauty of Being Broken

By N. Cardoso 05/29/2018

On this journey of the last few years, there were many lessons I have learned. Some were short process, while others I had to retake the test over and over until finally getting the hang of it, yet others I am still learning on my daily adventures.

One of the many things I came to understand is that on the journey to self- discovery, to self-growth, to forgiveness, nothings is ever wasted. Another is that when I surrender, when I stop fighting or looking for reasons, I somehow redeem myself.

I learn to give myself a fair chance to be human, to tap into the goodness I was born with, to be compassionate towards myself, and while I grow on this process I also learn to be more gracious and compassionate towards others.

It means to let go and forgive myself for past mistakes and choices, while embracing and owning the consequences from those same choices, actions, inactions, words or lack of words. It’s accepting the person I am with all my brokenness, it is learning to see the beauty of it.

There is an old Japanese practice of gluing the pieces of a broken bowl with a resin made of gold, it is called Kintsugi, it has been known and used for centuries. Its purpose it to enhances the beauty of a ceramic piece after it has been broken. After, theoretically loosing its purpose, the bowl is put back together and appreciated by its unique scars. I like to look at myself and see my own exquisite Kintsugi project.

As I move along the path, I collect the pieces of my broken self, carefully and consciously I glue them back into my life. I might have lost a piece all together and then I have to fill the empty space with golden resign. Some scars are almost unnoticeable unless observed very closely, others however, can be seen from afar.

Parts of my life have been lost forever, there is nothing I can do about it. I cannot go back to the womb and have different parents, different experiences, different feelings. These feeling, hurts, pains and scars are mine, they are the essence of who I am, they are part of my make up as a human, as a person. They have made me an optimist, a survivor, a person who never gives up, a warrior.

I have learned that, no matter how much I want, how much I deny them, how much I find distractions to avoid to deal with them, my wounds will not desapear. It is only when I stop the rabbit chase and look at them, embracing and accepting, claiming them as my own that I truly allow myself to heal, to grow, to forgive, not just others for what has been done, but myself for holding on, for allowing it to drag along into my life, for repeating the pattern over and over, for believing I could not change the story, for reacting the way I did.

The moment I looked into the mirror and saw the strange who starred back at me, I started a journey, a journey that was about letting go of the old me, the me that used to blame others for the outcome, for my behavior, for my choices. The me who felt that the world owed me something. That day in 2010, on my little shell, I stood up and took ownership of my life, of my choices, of my decisions. I embraced with both arms my own brokenness.

A slow process, resembling much as playing with a puzzle started. The pieces were all put face up first, then I started cautiously by the corners, pushing some too difficult to figure it out aside, carefully making sure the pieces belonged together, then stepping back, looking at them, understanding how they connected and finally glueing them back. Not pretending or expecting to be the same I once was, but lovingly embracing the brokenness.

It has been a long road, there were many bumps which have shaken me. There are still moments I loose my balance and have to step back, study two pieces, their shapes, colors, tones, only to find out they do not belong together. There were moments where I found myself utterly alone, but it was thanks to this loliness that I found solitude, and in solitude I not just rediscover myself, but where I re-learned what is to experience joy.

From the moment I started this journey to the world inside me, to the goodness I was born with, I knew that my first step was to crack wide open this heart of mine, to let the walls I have built tall and strong to fall down.

It took me a while to overcome the fear of being hurt, to stop over-ventilating, to take a hold of the panic I felt when I thought about being hurt, betrayed, broken again. Patiently I exercised the ‘worst case scenario’, and as I became more familiar with my own brokenness, understanding that no matter how broken, I was now, always able to glue myself back in, I came to realize that my worst fear was not the worst after all.

While I understood the risk I was opening myself to, I knew, as much as I know I need air to live, that this was the only way to open myself to the possibility of being loved, to be accepted, to be who I was meant to be.

Don’t be ashamed of your story, of your scars. Own them, hold them closer to your heart. Allow them to be seen, let them show who you are. For when we embrace our brokeness can we truly see the wonders which lies inside.