Who doesn't want damaged? Damaged brings superglue and Bubble yum to the party!

"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?"

You know what builds me up? LOSING IT A LITTLE BIT IN A BLOG POST. Wee!

I think it'll sting for awhile....

....every time I hear something from him it's like pulling at the edges of a healing scab and each time it scars a little bit. It's like taking a bloody, open wound and marinating yourself in sea salt. Rub it on, baby, I can take it.

There's really no sensitive way for someone to tell you that they, in essence, stopped loving you enough. Loving you enough to continue working at your relationship, looking in your direction, reminding you that you were adored and still the apple of their eye. I suppose he could've said something worse than, "At the end, I was just exhausted, and couldn't keep going. Our relationship made me tired, and did not build me up the way it built you up......"

Notice how there's nothing about how it exhausted me? How it broke me down?

You're right, it was probably exhausting towards the end, when you'd pulled so far away from me that I clung to the glimpses and bits of you that I still had, because I knew eventually those would be gone too. There were tiny morsels of you that I devoured, because I was starving, lacking nourishment, and hydration from you. You're right, it was probably exhausting to sip a beer and ignore the cell phone while you were perched at the bar stool, worn from packs of cigarettes and drunken lullaby's, and to figure out how to send a simple text message letting me know you weren't dead in a gutter somewhere at 4am, while I would lay in bed all too familiar with the outline of where you should've been sleeping. You're right, you were probably exhausted. You were probably exhausted to see that when you were available for me for just a MOMENT, you were mostly talking me back down from a ledge..... one that you'd pushed me to, every time you stopped letting me in, meeting my halfway, meeting me at all. Every time your priorities, your dreams, your needs were put in front of mine, I stepped one step closer to the the deep end of us.... It was probably exhausting keeping me around when you stopped having space for me in your life, you're right.

But there's one bit of that sentence that I really can't get and this is where your definition of "building up" and mine are radically different.

Did I not build you up for two years by encouraging, supporting your dreams.....grabbing you by the shoulders when you needed a good come to Jesus meeting, when you were doubting your ability to create and I'd look you in the eye and say, "I believe in you. You are not giving up.... " or I'd say, "Baby, everything is going to work out, you're amazing." Did it not build you up to give you a heart and an ear that weren't judging you, but listening, lovingly- did it not build you up to be the one thing that was always safe, steady, available and unyielding in my loyalty and belief in you?

Did it not build you up for me to polish a silver platter, with my friends, my connections, my life, all neatly placed in pretty little compartments and set it on your lap, all for the taking.

If by "not building you up" means, that that recording studio you work at, that tour you went on- weren't anchored from friendships and intros I gave you (happily) and pushed for and encouraged you to pursue...... if that's the definition of "not building you up" by taking everything I knew you wanted and saying, "HERE. HAVE IT." then I'm at a loss.

Maybe it's this part....maybe it's the part about giving you a place to live, a car to drive, food to eat, a phone, vacations, a family that adored and loved you unconditionally....that was probably really. exhausting. right?

Maybe I missed something in that department where one "builds another up...." so let me lay out just exactly what exhausted ME......how about what didn't build ME up?

How about all of the times your plans trumped mine, your music, your career, your need to "be inspired" at the expense of me-your late nights, your inability to communicate, your past, your fears of inadequacy and failure. It was exhausting cheering you on from the sidelines and being overlooked. It was exhausting to quiet that little voice inside my head that told me
"something wasn't right...." and to nod along when you said, "Beeboo, I'll never leave you- you can trust me, I'll love you forever."...it was exhausting knowing that you were only going to mean that as long as it was convenient for you.

I know you're aware that you didn't have "what it takes to support a female...." and that you thought you did...and I appreciate that admission. But really, all of this wasn't about ME....it was about YOU.

So this next time around I'm going to find what will build ME up.....the next man I'm with won't look at caring for me as a "chore." I won't need to beg him to take me on a date, or stick around after dinner.....I won't need to worry that his eyes are wandering in the direction of other women's hearts and beds. This next time around I will be built up by a man who has a foundation strong enough for me to stand on- one that he's proud of, with carefully measured ingredients that make up that of hard work, honesty, passion, loyalty, motivation....follow through and kindness. But where the "real stuff" is, the stuff that matters- he'll be able to see....he'll be able to recognize what "wonderful" really means in his life and it won't be measured by hours, charts, an audience, or accolades...but it will be made up of his family, his LOVE, the way he LIVES and his character.

The next time around, I won't spend all of my time doing hard labor to build him up.....we will both, brick by brick work together.... building something with legs, affection, stability and gratitude.

WHAT "BUILDS YOU UP" IN A RELATIONSHIP?

Don't fence me in....unless what's inside the fence has a taffy machine, a box of wine and a record player.

When everything is "new" again you find yourself describing, defining, and storytelling about "who you are" on a rather consistent basis.

You package yourself into a few nice paragraphs that you've let "define you" up to a point, that are milestones in your life's story or quirky anecdotes- you say a lot of, "I've done this...I do this...I would never....I have never...." and so on....

Each yes, or no statement- each label, each sentence that's said with absolute conviction, to better convey your "TRUTH" carves out a nice little nook for you to fit in. You burrow yourself in it and with your narrative you build up various walls, some stronger, thicker, sturdier than others- then of course, some have their loop holes and trap doors that are more malleable. Every declaration we make about ourselves is shaping your experiences, the lack of them, the abundance- the direction, the energy, etc. The story we tell ourselves and the people around us is what we're allowing ourselves to BECOME....and stay being.

Over the last two weeks with new jobs, new circles, new everything I've done a lot of storytelling- a lot of selling, "This is me, this is what I do, this is who I am, this is what I stand for and this is what I desire." The thing about all of that is, you can tell a story a million and one times, but are you okay with the truth that it conveys, are you HAPPY with the story you're letting define you???

You can also say "I'm a (FILL IN THE BLANKS) kind of person..." and the next thing you know you've flipped your world around and you're doing all of the things you thought you never would. Or maybe hadn't thought about period.

My past, my future goals- all of that IS a part of me, it's a PART of me...it isn't everything. Who you've been is a part of who you are and who you are in real time, presently, daily is defined by how you're actually living....and all of it is a part of an ever evolving "story."

So far I've been a shocker even to myself- those things that externally defined who I was, "I am a girl with a band and a boyfriend and I work from home, I'm a freelancer, I live in Denver." Those are gone now, now I'm a girl who may or may not have said I would do the OPPOSITE of all of this; works at a startup, lives at the bottom of a mountain (certain heels have had to retire, I know, sad day), crushing on someone who ISN'T a musician, hosting parties and packing my social calendar to the brim (my default mode is generally "hermit"), I go on dates (OK, I'M GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF, I DON'T ACTUALLY DO THIS....but I project it happening....OPTIMISM is a part of my story damnit.)

I am a girl who now has enough strength not to Facebook stalk, call, or text my ex-even when I want to, I've revoked the privilege of him getting to know "how I'm doing"...because even if I were to tell him, his insensitivity and lack of care and respect for me as a human being will always be more than I should settle for. I am a girl who, three months ago saw my whole life accompanied with this person by my side...and now I'm a girl who unpacks her things that still smell of that "together life" and throws them in the washer, takes a deep breathe, and despite feeling raw and unsure, exposed and totally unforgiving, I decide that I am a girl who, despite when the lip starts to quiver with the indication of a tear, listens to that little voice that pops up and says, "You're doin' good Chelsea-Belle."

I'm a girl who said I'd never have a roommate again, I'd never open my heart again, I'd never have a job with a desk (which I've decorated charmingly, btw) and here I'm a girl who's doing all of those things.

I'm a girl who's trying to get better about writing Thank You notes and not leave wet towels on my floor. I'm a girl who still wears Welch's Grape Chapstick and basically orgasms every time I stumble across a beautifully bound vintage book, flavored licorice, or a really good cover tune.

....And you know what's exciting??........ I'm pretty sure just about ALL of this will change.......

What's your "STORY?" and do you like the way it sounds??