I found myself unable to love who I was.
Love certainly is fragile, and in me, it had broken.
I found that the only time I felt truly worthy was when I was ‘rescuing’ someone, and if they didn’t need rescuing, I would burden myself with whatever I could in order to justify my own worth to myself.
The thing I have discovered since, regarding the nature of broken things is that they CAN in fact be mended… beautifully, perfectly.
Things that are broken can be mended to a state of greater perfection than the original ever was.
It comes from a place of choice afterall. Just the very act of choosing something broken, including yourself, and deciding to work, to mend it to perfection, automatically makes it immensely beautiful. It was your choice!
Sure, it takes a great deal of work, but when I looked at myself, saw that I was broken and no longer tried to hide that fact from the world or from myself, it was only then that I realised how beautiful I am.
I am my choice!
I’m reminded of the time I first laid eyes upon a boat that was run down, uncared for, unloved in such a long time. She was broken too. The same boat that every single other person had turned their nose up at. They all wanted something newer, shinier and less work.
I instantly fell in love with her. Perhaps it was because I recognised myself in her faded wood and tarnished brass.
Perhaps I felt that with each passing day of revealing her inner beauty through my hard work, that I would slowly reveal my own inner beauty; to myself.
I never wanted something perfect from the start. I felt that if I could show so much love to something broken and unloved, that through my efforts I would find a love for myself buried deeply within, underneath all of that faded wood and tarnished brass of my own character.
I realised that there was an immensity of work ahead, but when I considered the subject of my restoration, not an old boat but my very self, I instantly knew that there was no choice.
Sitting tarnished and pretending to shine, not doing the work because in doing so it would reveal my broken nature; ahhh, such a thing would no longer suffice. This approach had cost me far too dearly already.
No longer could I pretend that the wood was fresh and the brass was polished by hiding it beneath shrouds. These things were meant to shine, on display for the world to see. As was my heart.
There is no longer a choice of telling the world how shiny and polished these things are whilst keeping their faded and tarnished realities hidden.
In recognising that it has become time to do the work, I choose to take my broken, tarnished self, mend it and make it unbreakable!