I know what I want, but I’m not actively ready for it. Or maybe that isn’t it, maybe I just haven’t came across the right person carrying the traits and personality I need.
When people come along I don’t hide my damage. Most of the time I confront them with it straight forward. I figure the right person will either understand or will make me feel like that damage isn’t there.
Damaged: a loss or harm to something that impairs it’s value, usefulness or normal function.
For me the emotional and mental events that I have endured over the last few years certainly challenged me. From losing two siblings, two grandparents, deciding to divorce my husband, to a debilitating disease.
It all damaged me.
That’s bluntly truthful. No pity wanted, no pity needed. Those who know me will tell you I am immensely positive for what I’ve been through.
I used to be embarrassed by the things I have to modify in life. I used to be scared to feel all those feelings that came with the waves of my life.
Not anymore; no one is perfect. Everyone has difficulties. Everyone had to face their own battles.
It hit me like a ton of bricks when my rheumatologist said, with the most sad eyes, “I hate that such a beautiful girl like you is stuck with this awful limp.”
I thought about what he said for no more than two seconds. To which I replied “Doc, if my limp is what stops someone from loving me then not only were their intentions not true, but I don’t need someone like them anyway.”
It hadn’t happened in awhile, but just the other day as I was standing in line to get gas, one of my
sisters friends walked in the door.
We made eye contact. His eyes welled up quickly with tears, and I saw his head drop. I look all too much like my sister. I could see the pain in his eyes; his pain, pained me.
We didn’t speak. As I walked back to my jeep I thought the tear sliding down my cheek would surely freeze right there on my face. Man, I miss her too.
I feel damaged.
Losing a sibling is indescribable, losing two—hard. Man, it is hard. And losing one that you were very close to, that you shared your heart with, icing on the cake.
It’s an experience I can’t help or change. It’s a damage that cannot be repaired.
But that’s okay. I’m okay to be damaged. The person meant for me will be a blanket of warmth and comfort to all that everlasting pain.
We all have life events that have shaken us to our core. What affects one person may not affect another. It’s supposed to be that way. We’re supposed to be different. It’s what makes the world go round.
It’s also why we need friends; good friends to hold us up when we fall. It’s why we need to be a good friend when someone we love is down or struggling.
Even if they don’t tell you directly, take the time to check on them.
Just a, “hey how’s it going? Hey how are you?”
Those messages can go a long way.
Oh, and while I’m at it, check on your strong friends. Check on your funny friends. We hide a lot of our struggles behind humor and motivation. We don’t want others struggling the way that we do.
If you’re damaged too, don’t hide it. Don’t be ashamed of it. Don’t you dare let someone else make you feel less than because of your heartaches and hardships.
Your damage is beautiful. It’s what makes you who you are.
And who you are is someone worthy of love so pure you forget that you’re even damaged at all.