Screw It. I’ll Admit It. I’m Broken.

afro cry

 

Screw it. I’ll admit it. Why not? I’m broken. In all honesty being broken is probably three steps up from where reality sits. I’m somewhere in between shattered and dust if that’s even possible. I sit by myself with these pieces and particles attempting to rebuild myself. Clearly the adhesive I use is weak…or watered down. Because, I keep breaking. It’s crazy. I mean, people close to me see me falling apart but rarely offer to pick up a portion of me…the me I can be…I used to be… and help me become whole again.

In all honesty, maybe it’s my fault. My fault for being too nice, too trusting, too willing to give people a chance or two (or three). Everyone deserves chances right? Or maybe not. Maybe it’s my stupid heart always feeling the need to let someone prove they’re not who the rest of the world says they are. I’ve loved a few dummies and befriended a few snakes. Maybe I shouldn’t let people prove that they have changed or grown. We all grow, right?

Maybe it’s me. I’ve allowed people and situations to rock my entire world. I don’t know. Maybe its the fact that I’m getting older and losing sooooo many people I love. I feel guilty. For not calling when I say I will or for not making more chances to spend quality time with people I love. Life is fleeting. I should be more present. But I am mom, a working woman, and a dreamer determined to make some very amazing things come true. Many times being present with others creates an absence from other important things in my life. I don’t know. I’m just thinking…just typing.

I’m not whole. Finances, life, relationships, diabetes, death, and so much more has shaped me. I force smiles often. Maybe it’s because I feel like it’s expected. We often have to pull ourselves up by bootstraps when we don’t even have shoes. Life gives us a lemon and we have to make chocolate cake. I don’t know; but what I do know is things will get better. I may be Frankenstein after being put back together a million times but I WILL BE put back together. I will cry but I will smile again and it will be genuine. Not just some mask I place on my face gently to cover up pain. I will enjoy my son growing and evolving. He is living proof that people grow. I will figure this thing out no matter how many times I fall flat on my face. And although I will make adjustments needed to protect me, my son, my spiritual health, and my sanity…I will still be me. I will love like I’ve never had a broken-heart, I will laugh like sadness has never entered my life, and I will dance like there is not tomorrow. Why? Because God is good, I have a three-year old watching me, and I will be okay.

 

Until next time…

 

 

(photo  credit: Olga Lolo)

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