"He doesn't realize how damaged I am...."
My friend said as she stood in the kitchen, looking 100% far from "damaged," on the outside, while on the inside her bits were peeling, crashing to the pit of her stomach and sitting in a mess of debris from the wreckage. She stood like a statue, perfectly coiffed and steady, goddess like in her expression and I looked back her, empathizing after taking two Aspirin and washing it down with a glass of wine. had managed to drudge through yet another day looking "undamaged" myself and relatively composed (minus the hot sauce I managed to get on my jeans....even though I didn't eat any hot sauce- this takes a certain kind of skill, it just does.) but I could still feel that remnant stuff....sitting, with no landfill.
I was the damn landfill. My heart, my guts, my spirit....now all mixed with the messy bits. Or hunks of garbage carefully rearranged to fake the look of "motion." Like moving your food around a dinner plate when there isn't enough flavor, or you've lost your appetite. Yeah, we do that with feelings too, but ultimately....it's all just sitting there. Landfill.
There's something about that word that just kind of buried in my skin like a tick,"DAMAGED"....it's like, whatever it is I probably want to send it back.
I don't want to hang on to the spare parts, or try and repair it. I don't want the residue of superglue peeling from my fingertips for days while I try and put it back together, I don't want to try and figure out where-that-fucking-piece-even-goes-if-I-attempt-to-put-it-back-together. I'd just like to return it. Send it back, perhaps with some nice warranty that allows me to have a new one, maybe even a new one every year for seven years if I fucking feel like it. A whole one- with less work. Whatever it may be. It isn't like it's just "flawed," but it's DAMAGED, meaning; this one isn't worth keeping.....
...yeah. Well, guess who's damaged? SPOTLIGHT ON THE CHICK DOING SPIRIT FINGERS, RIGHT HERE, YO. Ah yes, why don't you just crank up the heat and shine it on me, I'm standing center stage and I brought my shiny taps. So sure, damaged? Probably.... and here's the thing; I don't want to be something/someone people want to return.... It's like, by acknowledging you have been damaged, or that you ARE damaged you nod your head at the fact that you are now somehow less desirable, less of someone worth bidding on, of less overall value than what you were once worth.
Oh that one right there? Yeah, it's marked down- it's damaged.
We all go through a bit of "damaging"- we get bruised up, there's scratches and then there's dents sometimes we don't even notice until you're suddenly under some weird light in a parking garage and you realize some motherfucker hit your car without leaving a note, (yeah that happened) or, maybe you bump up against someone and a piece of you that you used to have is touched on and the void of that "thing" that you're missing becomes so apparently clear, you can't even IMAGINE someone wanting to try and fill it in for you. It's an impossible feat.
The thing is, there's always someone who knows how to work with "damaged," who sees the USE of the spare bits, has the perfect glue to fill in that "imperfect" chip in that once-perfect-porcelain heart of yours.
Trust that there will be someone who doesn't see the repair as "work." They just see you, perhaps even standing like the Venus de Milo, holding onto the pieces of yourself that have somehow been severed and just need an extra hand to piece back together. Or maybe it's less classy and you're actually snotting into a glass of Scotch looking like Tammy Faye Bakker after a monsoon.
To my beautiful friend, I will repair you. He will repair you and you will repair you, by continuing to stand strongly, beautifully "damaged." And I will open my hear to restoration myself. This one is for all those pieces, to that inconvenient landfill of heavy emotions, to those shreds that remain, victim to someone elses wrecking ball of a heart. Cheers to the wreckage, that you will rise from like a Phoenix, since yes my loves, every rebirth deserves a dramatic entrance. We are all perfectly worth keeping...damaged bits and all.
Who has helped "FIX YOU?"