my essay about being hospitalized for a suicide attempt is the only thing that got me into college (and a scholarship, to boot). It was the only time I’ve seen real madness in a human being.
Yes I have. I turned a childhood trauma into a source of hope for others who were wounded as children.
I keep some broken things, but I usually try to turn them into something new. Sometimes it helps me find meaning. Sometimes it just makes me feel better.
Yes. I am keeping my being broken by the loss of my lover. It has become my desire, transformed in a way that I do not understand, but that is absolutely beautiful. He broke me. And then another man broke him breaking me. And the transformation: Now I want to be with two men.
When my father was diagnosed with throat cancer. I had later found out from a then-recent friend that her father had had cancer as well. His was far worse. We were both relatively young. She was twelve, I was thirteen. We were both filled with angst. I started to self-harm. It never led to anything drastic. But it was enough to scar. Which depending on who’s definition is being used, is somewhat drastic.
About a year later, my father healed.
So did my cuts. And I had felt like a new person. Something flipped a switch on, and I felt stronger. I also felt stupid, for being so angsty. Slowly, I became happier. And I healed too. I had my daddy back.
Meanwhile, my friends father died. Now, it’s so easy to read about someone dying. But I was so devastated. I wept for days and days about it. Although, I never knew him. It was out of sadness for the family. To see my friend crying that way. And it was fear. That could have been my father. So, I’ve been embracing my father. He’s old. Was drafted in the sixties. And he tells the greatest stories. I wanna hear every last one.
So, yes, I have gone through something hard. Almost loosing my own father, and watching it happen to my friend has really helped mold me. Although, I didn’t go through cancer, someone I love did. And that was enough to make me realize how fragile and sacred life is.
i’ve been through many things that have made me who i am… although that may not be a good thing. things have hardened my heart to the world around me, caused me to no longer care about the people closest to me, disconnected me from my family. and yet i’m still happy with my life, still here, smiling as if nothing is wrong, just like the broken snowglobes i collect, but isn’t that just a sign that something is wrong? being broken isn’t necessarily a bad thing i don’t think, as long as you realize how broken you really are.
I have been broken in many different ways and by different ways throughout my life. My wife asks me occasionally how I can still be the person I am with all that has happened to me. My only response that I can think to give is that I am who I am and to be otherwise would make me someone else.
This one is the most powerful one I’ve read yet,
Everything horrible that has ever happened to me, everything that has completely torn me up and spit me back out, has made me the person who i am. And though I may hate how it all turned out, I wouldn’t change who i am now for anything in the world.
thats been something ive /always/ belived. i grew up with my mom and my sister in a one room appt. and i remember taking a walk with my mom when i was about nine. we were loking at all the beautiful houses with their elaborate christmas decorations and she broke down crying because she had never been able to give us the big houses with the backyard and i told her that if she loved me she couldn’t regret how i came to be the way i was.
erm, she didn’t quie apreciate the sentiment *cough*
I used to have a garden full of broken dishes, vases ect. i called it my broken dish garden, anytime a dish or something broke i threw it in that part of my garden; I thought it was beautiful :)
my essay about being hospitalized for a suicide attempt is the only thing that got me into college (and a scholarship, to boot). It was the only time I’ve seen real madness in a human being.
I wouldn’t take those 8 days back for the world.
Yes I have. I turned a childhood trauma into a source of hope for others who were wounded as children.
I keep some broken things, but I usually try to turn them into something new. Sometimes it helps me find meaning. Sometimes it just makes me feel better.
Yes. I am keeping my being broken by the loss of my lover. It has become my desire, transformed in a way that I do not understand, but that is absolutely beautiful. He broke me. And then another man broke him breaking me. And the transformation: Now I want to be with two men.
When my father was diagnosed with throat cancer. I had later found out from a then-recent friend that her father had had cancer as well. His was far worse. We were both relatively young. She was twelve, I was thirteen. We were both filled with angst. I started to self-harm. It never led to anything drastic. But it was enough to scar. Which depending on who’s definition is being used, is somewhat drastic.
About a year later, my father healed.
So did my cuts. And I had felt like a new person. Something flipped a switch on, and I felt stronger. I also felt stupid, for being so angsty. Slowly, I became happier. And I healed too. I had my daddy back.
Meanwhile, my friends father died. Now, it’s so easy to read about someone dying. But I was so devastated. I wept for days and days about it. Although, I never knew him. It was out of sadness for the family. To see my friend crying that way. And it was fear. That could have been my father. So, I’ve been embracing my father. He’s old. Was drafted in the sixties. And he tells the greatest stories. I wanna hear every last one.
So, yes, I have gone through something hard. Almost loosing my own father, and watching it happen to my friend has really helped mold me. Although, I didn’t go through cancer, someone I love did. And that was enough to make me realize how fragile and sacred life is.
i’ve been through many things that have made me who i am… although that may not be a good thing. things have hardened my heart to the world around me, caused me to no longer care about the people closest to me, disconnected me from my family. and yet i’m still happy with my life, still here, smiling as if nothing is wrong, just like the broken snowglobes i collect, but isn’t that just a sign that something is wrong? being broken isn’t necessarily a bad thing i don’t think, as long as you realize how broken you really are.
hugs, quin. i hope that you get to a truly happy place.
thank you. you have no idea how much that means to me. i can only hope the same for you.
I have been broken in many different ways and by different ways throughout my life. My wife asks me occasionally how I can still be the person I am with all that has happened to me. My only response that I can think to give is that I am who I am and to be otherwise would make me someone else.
Do wounds make us? Or can we just not imagine ourselves without our wounds because they are.
‘Ain’t no use jivin’, ain’t no use jokin’, everything is broken.’ (Bob Dylan?)
‘Life is a lemon and I want my money back!’ (Meatloaf)
This one is the most powerful one I’ve read yet,
Everything horrible that has ever happened to me, everything that has completely torn me up and spit me back out, has made me the person who i am. And though I may hate how it all turned out, I wouldn’t change who i am now for anything in the world.
thats been something ive /always/ belived. i grew up with my mom and my sister in a one room appt. and i remember taking a walk with my mom when i was about nine. we were loking at all the beautiful houses with their elaborate christmas decorations and she broke down crying because she had never been able to give us the big houses with the backyard and i told her that if she loved me she couldn’t regret how i came to be the way i was.
erm, she didn’t quie apreciate the sentiment *cough*
i spend too much of my time hiding behind my wounds instead of facing the present.
my eighth grade experience was, in my opinion, a living hell.
but, i think that it taught me how foolish it was to waste time with hate.
not to mention it made me a hell of a lot stronger emotionally, too.
i’ve learned a lot about how to survive all alone.
I have learned because of it, that I must stay with who matters to me, and not care about the thoughts of others, only theirs.
I used to have a garden full of broken dishes, vases ect. i called it my broken dish garden, anytime a dish or something broke i threw it in that part of my garden; I thought it was beautiful :)