You will wake, eyes swollen, heart achy, with a thrum-thrum-throb in your head.
Waking will be a surprise. You will be sure that you’ll never wake from this—this heart-distress, this life mess, this state of unanswered grief. But awaken you will.
You’ll cry. You won’t want to. You are so tired of crying, but the hot sting of salt-tears, as much injury as insult, come fast and unstoppable.
You are convinced you will drown. This may or may not happen (unlikely, though). You realize you are melodramatic. You are not melodramatic. You don’t know where reality ends and melodrama starts.
This pain, crimson and ragged, will tear at your insides (and at your outsides). This is the start of another day.
Life will break you, but you’ll be okay.
You will sleepwalk through the day, through most of the days, until you realize that broken is a temporary state. You will resolve not to sleepwalk anymore (until you start sleepwalking again).
Life will break you, but you can be patched. Patched up, so the good stuff stays in since you’ve already let most of the bad stuff bleed out. You will be sure that people can see your patches—they’re not quite seamless, there but not—almost invisible, yet still perceptible like a repair on old jeans. No one will see the patched places until you point them out. That is unless the viewer has a similar wound—then you will be recognized.
Rejoice when you’ve been recognized! You have been seen by a compatriot, a sister in the healing war, by a person with the same tender places as you (this is good news). Meeting this other wounded human presents an opportunity for healing for you both.
You will heal. Oh, you won’t believe it even though you’ve done it before—you have crossed the Rubicon of heartache, followed the breadcrumbs through the forest of sorrow—you’ve made it out only to be here again. And you will be here once again (even after this).
But don’t let this get you down. These little breakages only polish your human patina. The cracks make you deliciously lovable—relatable—a human worth knowing. Don’t be afraid of this time of deep heart or life ache. Just know that we with soul fractures see your pain, and know its sting, and we are here if you need us.
image: death to stock (creative commons)