Unbroken: The Pieces of Me
“We were born this way, not chipped away from some other, more complete human.” A reader’s perspective on picking up and moving on, even when life leaves you feeling inferior.
Some days I crumple on to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, or a doll that has been thrown into the corner, my limbs askew and my eyes closed. I get so tired from being me that I try to discard of myself, just for the moment.
There has to be peace outside of my body, a calm that everyone else has laid claim to, as if it were natural to be undisturbed by their mind. I am the broken one, and if I throw myself down hard enough, maybe I’ll shatter altogether.
My ears are broken, taking in too many sounds and ignoring the important voices. My eyes are broken, unable to discern faces and expressions. My voice is broken, squeaking and randomly changing volume. My heart is broken, shaken too many times by a fear that isn’t there. I wish it were safer to be me.
Inevitably, I pick myself up. I know I can’t stay a heap on the floor. I understand what brokenness is, and I reconcile with my emotions. Broken is the term everyone uses when their minds aren’t what they are supposed to be. Broken is a more simple term of explaining ourselves to the people and the environment around us.
But we can’t be broken. It isn’t possible. We were born this way, not chipped away from some other, more complete human. Even if trauma made us this way, we’re still one creature, one human that can still move within the world. This isn’t pieces of us that have taken over. This is part of our whole. This is the way we are.
I wrestle with my depression and anxiety every day. They color my choices, my opinions, my place in the world. Having attention deficit disorder (ADHD or ADD) just makes it that much harder to express what is tearing away at me. But despite feeling inhuman sometimes, I understand that I have the same experiences as anyone else. I just perceive them differently. I celebrate holidays, go to events, have friends and loved ones. And those friends and loved ones could never experience life like I can.
My heart expresses joy and sorrow more quickly, more sharply. Those sensations could never be dulled. My voice brings energy and laughter to conversations. My eyes are constantly searching, seeing the world in a way no one else’s eyes could. My ears are more sensitive, and can discern the melody from the harmony in any situation.
[When You’re So Sensitive It Hurts]
I can’t discard of myself. But no one else can discard me, either. I am life, and energy (lots of energy). My mind has a ferocity that can’t be tossed aside. The human experience is for everyone, and I intend on experiencing to an extent no one else can, even if I’m exhausted at the end of every day.