CONTRIBUTION: Kintsugi

I’ve been married three times now, but have never really known the love of a man.

My mother said one time that it’s because I’m damaged, because of what happened to me when I was younger. That it affected my ability to see the difference between hope and reality, like somehow the wires in my brain got crossed, confusing the person I want them to be – the person I see they can be, deep down inside- with the person they really are, right now… and that causes me to not be able to see the truth right in front of me. Not until it’s too late.

It’s kind of like having the world’s worst superpower I guess, this falling in love with a person’s potential at the expense of my own, because it never really worked out for me. Not unless you count my kids, that is. And boy, they’re amazing… smiles so sweet you could pour them over pancakes for breakfast. Spirits so tender you could cut them with a butterknife. And hearts so good you just know they were made to change the world.

So what am I worried for? I mean, I taught them what they needed to know, away from their father when that’s what they needed. And so they kept their goodness without getting all swallowed up by the things that don’t really matter: the things that harden and cauterize the soul. I showed them Love and taught them the ways of Wisdom, those things I wish I had learned all those years ago but was too foolish to listen to. I held their hands so they could get their footing, let go so they could walk, and cheered so they could run. I valued them each for their individuality, tried to fess up when I made mistakes, and did it all while trying to hold together the broken pieces of myself and my life. Not an easy task, but I did it.

So yeah, maybe I did do good. Maybe the potential I saw in their father was something else, something in the seed, something meant to be watered and tended to like a plant, until it was ready to bloom. Not much I can do now except see it till the end, anyway. They’re just about done, like almost perfectly ripe pieces of fruit off this old tree. Or rather, young tree, since I’m really not that old, it just feels like it sometimes with the lives I have lived. And oh, the stories I could tell you… but, without you seeing the pictures you’d probably just think I was making it up. I know I would. A lot of those pictures have been lost over the years. Lost to the who-knows-where. I don’t know, they just disappeared, somewhere off in the ether. Lost storage sheds I couldn’t pay for, a hurried move in the middle of the night, or thrown out because of a house that ended up having mold in it, infecting everything I owned.

That’s the thing about hard copies. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. There’s no getting them back.

But what lives on… now that’s another story. And that story is the NOW, and that’s all I’m interested in from here on out. I’ve had enough with that stupid superpower, had enough of it for a very long time now, but I only just now realized it. Yeah, I’m finished with it, because you know, it was more of a curse than anything. I’ve had enough with believing the lies about myself that say I am broken because of my past. Cause somewhere along the way, I think maybe it was right before I started grad school, I realized something: I’m not broken anymore. I mean, I really realized it. Sure, I may have my issues, but now what I see in the mirror… what I see is something very different than before.

The Japanese have this amazing practice of repairing broken pottery by joining the fragmented shards together with gold, making the final piece both stronger than the original as well as absolutely breathtaking to behold. It’s called kintsugi, and the human philosophy behind it is simple: that true beauty and strength lies in living through trauma and hardship. That those experiences that break us can make us into better people, people free of things like perfectionism, worry, and other unhealthy habits… if we submit to the process.

I think this is me now. When I look in the mirror, I no longer see broken, but mended: someone worthwhile, multi-faceted, a woman joined together in gold to be more durable, more resilient, and even more beautiful than ever before. I see a woman who continues to see not only the potential in others, but potential and reality simultaneously, and adjusts accordingly.

I see growth.

I also see a woman free to love. So who knows? Maybe one day I will know a healthy love that is reciprocated. But that is no longer my end goal. Hasn’t been for quite some time now. For now, I have my boys, my dogs, my chickens, my horse trough, my keyboard, my sunsets, and my everyday life to get to.

And that’s enough for me.