|Photo by Audrey Dodgen|
I know that I get in my own way. It's the part about being completely open about who you care and what you're struggling with. Is anyone ever really comfortable with the truth about themselves? Probably not, but there are people who are still able to be open about it, and I envy them.
Fifteen years ago I was planning a wedding that never happened. It took me at least six years to be emotionally settled with the way everything crumbled, and it's taken another nine for me to be able to write about it in an objective and peaceful way. We all have things like that in our lives and even though they color everything that comes after them, we don't always have the ability to talk about them and share them with the people around us. Those things don't just shape who we are. In some ways they are who we are. And they are not at all who we are, because the idea that part of me is my rejection is an uncomfortable thought. I'd rather be thought of as a mother or as a wife or as a storyteller than as a woman who was rejected or manipulated or broken.
But no one loves someone who can't understand their wounds. No one feel supported and cared for when you offer them glassy perfection in response to sharp brokenness. Open up. Expose the raw and the broken side of yourself and offer it up to the next person and see if they don't also open themselves up to say, "Look! I got broken, too!"