You are damaged goods

I just watched people walk out of the gym. They're walking exhaustion and they are every shape, size and color you'd find in a bag of halloween candy (okay, there are not any purple people yet).

Some are obviously strangers chatting, some are  with friends and loved ones. Some are alone. All of them are damaged, all of them a mixed bag of frustration, happiness, battle scars and optimism. I'd venture to guess each has seen their heart's hope challenged in numerous ways.

I'd venture to guess some are walking towards their next emotional boxing match.

Thing is, no one isn't damaged. Flat out, we're each struggling to find our place if we succeed at 'that' it simply means we've learned to except that the human condition is one of perpetual imperfection. We fear our own emotions, and we most certainly fear the vulnerability that each new person in our life represents. Sharing our lives with someone is our most courageous endeavor; never meant to be easy and never meant to anything more concrete than a commitment to the process. 

Everyone wants someone who's damaged. It's the ones who think they aren't you've got to look out for. Damaged, crazy, quirky, weird, unique; we're all just looking for the damage that shines in the light we see the world through.

What I'm saying might sound like a cliche, but...it's the imperfections that make a person interesting, loveable, and human. When you live hard, when you love, laugh, work, play, all so very, very hard, you're bound to bust a few bones, break a heart or two, and bear bruises, sometimes for much longer than we'd like.

But, that's LIFE. I, for one, wouldn't want it any other way. Especially because that healing process can be oh so sweet.

 I haven't been consistent in writing because I've been damaged, in so many different ways at many different levels. Each day I get better and though I thought this year was hard and harsh, things seem to be moving in a better direction.

Me? I helped fix me. Obviously the me that was broken and battered didn't have the capacity to do the mending. But the person I became, going through the fog and drudging through it at times became someone that showed the old (broken and battered) me that no, I can't be broken and no I will not allow someone outside of myself to have so much control. They don't deserve it. 

Daily questions and daily non-acceptance of my current state in the muck absolutely would have continued if I didn't have people. People that allowed me to just mope when I needed to (compassion) and brought me dancing anyways (distraction). Danced to the point that I felt free again. But only I could remove the shackles.

Yes we are damaged goods... And I bet we wouldn't have it any other way 😍