That One Day When I Realized I’m Broken and it’s Beautiful…and That Matcha is Life!

I have so many words in my head today, so this may be a long one. First, Kelly Clarkson is amazing and if you haven’t listened to Broken and Beautiful recently, do it now. I’ll wait. Okay, back to what I was saying. The words in my head…oh yes. There are so many things I need to say. I have to constantly take notes in my phone because, alas, Frankie (my MS) has stolen my brain power.

I place my fingers to the keyboard, but I am so full, I don’t know where to start. I’ll just start with the title. I am broken. My sisterfriend, Nyree always says, “No you’re not!” But I am. We all are to some extent. Broken, then mended. Broken, then mended. I shared this with my perpetual fiancé, Robert. And by perpetual, I mean, we’re never getting married. Just forever engaged. Anyway, so my brokenness is not an altogether bad thing. Unless you are extremely close to me and I trust you enough to show you, the brokenness is nearly unnoticeable.

I have been hurt a lot in my lifetime. A lot. Rejection sucks and I have experienced it more than any one person should. Yet, I see where it has formed me and made me who I am. I like me. I actually love me. Finally. It took a while, though. See? So many words and they’re fighting my brain space for a chance to be written. Hold on patient readers, while I get them in order. chill out words, you’ll all get your chance.

Okay, I’m back. Now, what was I saying…yes, I love me. And brokenness. Being broken is not the end of all things. I am talking to my warriors with chronic illness and pain. When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, it happened so quickly, my world changed in the blink of an eye. I went from superwoman to what-in-the-whole-hell-is-happening-woman. I was depressed from being bedridden, unable to work and having to drop out of college (again?!) I was beside myself.

But wait, is that the sound of the mender coming to heal some of my brokenness? Yes! As the glue was being applied, I began to see some beauty in the break. I have loved to write for as long as I can remember. This season of nothingness gave me what I needed to start writing. Time! That elusive thing of which we never seem to have enough. So began this here blog. The place where I write. Everything. Go back to the beginning. You’ll see.

I’m gonna wrap this up and save the rest for another day. Find your beauty. It may be in the cracks of your brokenness, but it is there.

Oh and matcha!! If you have not discovered this tea of champions, go. Go forth and find this treasure. Until next time (which will probably be tomorrow because, again, the words and whatnot).

That One Day When I Found Home

I have always searched. I never quite knew what for, but I longed for something that was missing. Growing up, I felt like an outcast in my family. Except that my daddy was always there. There to be whatever I needed. He was my best friend. We would ride around town together, go fishing, and I loved making him laugh.

When I look back, I realize I was looking for home. A place to belong. Where everything clicked. Where I knew I fit. I found, though, that home for me would never be a place. I see now that my daddy was home for me then. When I grew up, I thought that when I got married, I would find that place of fulfillment, but, no.

I did find some fulfillment in raising my beautiful children. But I still did not belong anywhere. I remained a helium-filled balloon, always on the ceiling of where I lived, anticipating the day I would float to the floor in a useless pile.

I shared with my love today that my trust issues do not stem from him. My inability to trust love had nothing to do with anywhere or anything he was lacking. I was explaining to him that I had come to the stark realization that the only person that I ever believed loved me no matter what was gone. And I don’t know what to do with the gaping hole that he left. He left a daddy-shaped hole that only Larry V Wilson can fill.

On the bright side, however, though no one can or should fill that hole, I have found my home. It is not a place. It is the welcoming of a stranger to a family. It is the physical hug and the happy smile I receive when I walk into a room. It is my long-distance family whom I adore, but it is also the family God recently gave me to lighten the load and maybe cover the hole that can never be filled.

I can’t help but think of the song ‘Home’ from the movie ‘The Wiz’. When I think of home, I think of a place where there’s love overflowing…’
I am finally home. The search is over.