I was watching this movie with Jake Gylenhall called The Guilty and a character in the movie said this quote, “broken people save broken people.” It’s so fucking true that I had to write it down.
Do you consider yourself broken? I am. That’s not bad self-esteem talking, it’s just facts. But being broken isn’t a bad thing, it’s just a thing.
Broken people are those who’ve had a bit more struggle in life than most. And by a bit I mean a lot. Hey, we all have our struggles and strife. Who doesn’t?
But our crosses to bear seem to be made of lead. Others, made of feathers.
We’re broken in the sense that we don’t exactly have pasts strewn with primroses. Yes, I had to GTS* what a primrose is.
Traumatic experiences will do that to you. They’ll break you down until you feel you can’t stand, get out of bed, can’t sit, on a pillow let alone a wall.
We humpty dumptys may be broken from our past, but somehow we put ourselves back together again.
So how do reconstructed eggs save others who are the broken?
Sharing is caring. And it’s easier to open up to that which you know.
Easier to share your feelings and unburden yourself with others who have been through similar struggles, who can empathize with what you’re going through. Easier to share with other cracked eggs who can be our cartons of trust to keep our feelings safe, secure, unscrutinized and even cherished.
Not to malign the other non-broken people in our lives who are there for us, but there is an unspoken connection that the experience of trauma creates between us black sheep.
“I know you’re going through a tough time”–nice sentiment to hear from the “normal” people we know, but hearing that from a fellow Dumptian hits right where it hurts.
More precisely, right where it heals.
I know some great broken people. I’m sure you do too if you think about it. Maybe you’re one of them.
It’s funny how like finds like. I tell that to my friend who I met six years ago. We just started talking one night, he across the bar, me reaching out, something I never do. But our souls are subconsciously drawn to that which we know. We’ve become great friends through the years and now we’re like family.
Didn’t know at the time we met just how alike we were.
Strange familiarity we had each found in a stranger.
We were both broken.
But broken isn’t down for the count. It’s an opportunity in disguise.
A chance to rebuild better, stronger, faster (Six Million Dollar Man anyone? TV show from the ‘80s. Yep, showing my age here.)
But with age comes wisdom. And sometimes you meet a broken person who’s wisdom defies age.
When you do, take notes.
I know such a person. Again, like finds like, age difference or not. We found each other years ago when we were both already cracked.
And then we completely shattered.
Sometimes broken people break each other to bits before the healing can start.
And then the Universe steps in after many years apart and puts you back in each other’s life to complete the healing.
One fleeting day last summer we ran into each other by chance. It stirred up some kind of emotional upheaval in me that I can’t explain. He seemed happy, joyful about life, grateful. But even in his darkest times, he always was.
He triumphed. But where he has triumphed, I have just…survived. Seeing him again made me not want to just survive anymore.
It made me want to feel.
So off to therapy I went, and it’s changed my life.
I had just gotten tired of being tired of myself. Tired of lugging around all the broken bits that used to make up whole-me that somehow got lost over the years.
But that’s what broken people are good at, losing things.
But we’re also good at mending things. Experts at keeping it together, even when we’re not. Often we’re too busy fixing others while our own cracks grow deeper.
But then, everything comes back around again. And the mender becomes the mendee.
Both of these wise, broken friends have saved me, and they don’t even know it.
Maybe I should change that.
“The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
-Robert Frost
❤️
CM
4/19/24 (I won’t even tell you how many months ago I actually started this piece. #Procrastination)
*GTS – Google That Shit
