The beautiful in broken

I cleaned my room out today instead of doing the work I should’ve done (shhh mum I’ll get it done). I’m not a sentimental person, I don’t like clutter, and sometimes things accumulate. I regularly throw away things I kept for no real reason. Objects don’t hold memories or feelings for me, so I don’t hold onto them very tightly.

I do keep some things. Cards and letters mostly. When I moved away from a close friend when I was 18 we wrote letters to each other weekly for over a year. They never fizzled, we decided to stop because we knew we were reopening old stitches instead of letting things heal. I have countless letters from her still. I have letters from other friends, birthday cards, a poem my mum wrote me when I was 16. Another letter she wrote me when she was the most depressed I remember.

The ones I read through today were from 4 people that have been monumental in my life. None of them are still a feature in my days. Each letter outlined big mistakes they had made, sometimes directly, sometimes inferred. Things that had ripped me apart at the time, that I thought I would never recover from. Some of these things I still think about, others I can’t believe got to me the way they did. I guess it goes to show how different relationships can be. One mistake in a friendship could be the end, but the same action in another would barely be addressed.

The other thing all 4 letters talked about was how I didn’t deserve those mistakes. They all talked about their own issues and problems that they had to address, and how I got the brunt of their emotional immaturity. They all talked about how loyal I am, how I’m kind and one of the most important people in their lives. It was lovely to read for about a millisecond… and then it kind of felt like someone spitting in my face.

If I’m really that person to all these people, then why do I keep getting hurt?

I’m trying to let go of that feeling. I know these things weren’t my fault. I can’t control how people fuck up, but I can control how I react to their actions.

Sometimes things break and you can glue them back together. They never look quite the same but they’re whole. Big pieces that make sense and just need stability until the glue dries.

Sometimes when things break, they shatter into these little pieces you can pick up. They cut your hands and leave you wounded while you try to search for all the parts that you know you’ll never find again. Still, you push them together and fill the gaps in attempt to fix it all up nice and pretty.

Sometimes when things break they shatter into pieces so small you can barely see them anymore. They’re gone forever. Until that strand of light reaches where they fell and they glitter.

Maybe those broken relationships are the glitter in my life. They caused me so much pain for so long that I was always scared to look back at them and see how I feel now. I know, intellectually, that it wasn’t my fault that things fell apart. But I’ve been carrying this weight around inside me that maybe I could’ve just been a little bit better, easier, more adaptable. Ultimately in my head, I’m the common denominator that allows people to keep hurting me. We spend so long talking about how broken we are, how fucked up the world is and all the trauma we’ve had to deal with that excuses our poor behaviour that hurts the people around us. When we are the ones that get hurt we forget to look for that shine once the pain subsides. It’s not the thing we had at the start, but it’s still pretty spectacular

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The demons in my words

When I started this blog I did it for me. To air out my thoughts and practise my writing. The problem is more and more I’m scared to write. I feel like I did as a teenager when the contents of my mind felt too heavy for my shoulders, so I couldn’t bare to add that extra pressure to an already overloaded world. Even voicing my thoughts felt I was shaping them into a real life demon as my mouth formed the words. So imagine now, as I get more and more used to putting my thoughts in paper, how scary the idea is if giving these demons a permanent home in my safe haven of writing. Because if it want clear, the dark side of my brain can be pretty scary.

The problem is, the less I write, the more it builds. The more it builds the more I need to talk. And I seem to have cultivated a situation where I don’t know where to go to talk. I think again, it comes back to not wanting to talk out loud in case it all becomes a bit too real. Even if I had anywhere to go.

Now, if you’ve read any of my blogs before you’ll notice I’m a bit of a head on, straight up kind of person. I don’t like hiding from my problems, maybe because I’m all too familiar with how that doesn’t work. I isolate and self sabotage and everything else that comes with that fun game of collecting countless crates of bottled up emotions. I know myself well enough to know I have to deal with the dark and twisty way my brain is moving right now. Something always stops me… what if I can’t handle it? What if this isn’t a fight I’m meant to win after all?

Either way, what do I do with all of this. If I talk, people worry. If I write, people want to talk. Above all I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to be that friend who no one wants around, I feel alone enough already. People don’t want miserable people around. Sad, but true. They want the Kim who’s life of the party and up for anything. Even writing this feels like a pity party. To be clear, it isn’t. That’s the entire point actually, I don’t know what to do because I don’t want people to worry. When I started writing this, it was just for me. So now if I can’t write freely, what’s left?

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Where does the love go?

The world is obsessed with love. It’s unclear what love really means to people these days because the obsession has taken over. Is it presents and notes and falling asleep thinking of the same person on your mind when you wake up? That ping in your chest that mimics your phone when you get a message from them? Is it forgiving flaws and forgetting mistakes? Who the hell knows at this point.

My version of love is understanding. If you understand someone, I don’t think you can not love them. When you know why people make the mistakes they make and really see where there decisions lie. Even the worst decisions don’t make bad people. Humanity is inherently alright. Everyone’s fine, nobody is special, even the one taking up all your brain power. That doesn’t mean that we can’t love some people and not others. It’s a matter of knowing their vulnerabilities and seeing their strengths. So where does the love go after a heart break ?

Well for starters, heartbreak isn’t a disease. It’s strong and painful for sure, but it’s not a tangible virus that needs a cure. There’s plenty of research that suggests that being removed from someone you love, especially in a painful way, is akin to drug withdrawal. Of course that’s not easy. The thing that makes it hard is how the love remains. It’s much easier if you can just detox it. Get drunk, go running, on a holiday, whatever it takes to distract you until you can seep that drug out of your system. But where does it go when it leaves?

Love is a given, but relationships are not. Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you need to accept things you are unhappy with. It doesn’t mean that you have to compromise or cross boundaries or stop doing exactly what you want. That’s all up to you. You can walk away at any point, from a friend, a partner or even family. It’s not easy, in fact, it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I hate walking away. I’m a fighter and I stand straight up to what I’m unhappy with and look it in the face, stare it down and win it over. It’s just how I work, I don’t like walking away from people. Probably, because I know that the people I love have so much good in them, even if they can only hurt me on the outside. I have real abandonment issues and I never want to leave anyone with the same. Having said that, I have done it. I’ve walked out of peoples lives with my head held high…and then cried to everyone I meet for the rest of the day. But I’ve done it all the same.

From my experience, after the heart break of walking away, or having someone walk away from you, the love doesn’t go anywhere. People come in and out of your life, but real love, that never leaves for me. Even the ones who have left me with scars I mourn daily, the love is underlying. Sometimes, I can even look at those scars with affection because of it. Like I said, when you know someone, how can you even stop loving them.

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