Broken

I’m broken.
And yet to hold onto the brokenness.
I play with it like a toy.
It is uniquely mine.
I show it to others like a badge of distinction.
I don’t welcome empathy, but I seek it.
I blame my brokenness. And I relish when others agree with my naming the blame.

I play with it like a toy.
It is uniquely mine.
I show it to others like a badge of distinction.
I don’t welcome empathy, but I seek it.
I blame my brokenness. And I relish when others agree with my naming the blame.
It gives me satisfaction.

So much satisfaction that I hold onto my grouping brokenness tighter.
I share more boldly.
I share it loudly.
I share it often.

Often enough that it becomes gossip.
And the satisfaction that I feel from being self-righteous prevents my healing.

I pray for healing.
I let it go.
I pick it back up.
Repeat…

Until one day, the satisfaction and false sense of control wane.
So I put it down.

I walk away.
I grieve.
I feel healed.
Until the one day when I am broken once more.
And now I carry that brokenness, and I pick up my old brokenness
holding both, knowing that I am in this place again.

Until I learn to let go and pick up wholeness
Hold onto the truth
Hold onto love
Hold onto kindness
Hold onto the essence of God
and keep trying to hold on.

___________

Until Everyone Hears,

Dr. K