According to the psychology of Chassidus, there’s no such thing as damaged goods. But how true is this?
If we’re going to be honest with ourselves and each other, we’d admit that everybody’s damaged by something. Even children. And that’s one big heartbreak. No matter how hard we try to make our children perfect; to give them the perfect life, we’re bound to be disappointed. We seem to have the misguided notion that physical perfection can’t conceal twisted emotions or a damaged mind but I think every soft child in the world gets damaged. All of us come into this world and get damaged. It’s just a question of how badly, and whether or not they’re healing or still bleeding.
We’re all damaged somehow and for some of us that have gotten so damaged that we’re numb from all the loss and the bleeding, an obsession is our way of damaging ourselves more.
I have learned to identify with loss and absence. Consequently, even if something beneficial enters into my life I immediately treat it as temporary. By the time I was 18, I was already accustomed to a “discontinuous lifestyle marked by constant threats of abandonment and the lack of any emotional stability. Unfortunately, ‘accustomed to’ here is really synonymous with ‘damaged by’” (Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves).
I’ve become wild, unpredictable and dangerous as hell. Not only to my sanity but to my own health. I’ve become the kind of girl that forever just isn’t enough for and in any case I’d never give forever willingly. You’d have to drag it out of me kicking and screaming.
No matter how hard we fight back or maybe because of how we struggle, pressure applied in the right places can cause even the strongest men to fracture. I am fractured, and the lines between my broken pieces are not fissures but scar material stronger than whatever had once filled those spaces.
My mind is a dark corridor where the lights have failed. Footsteps of the ones that walked away echo eerily as they run down them. They make stealthy movements difficult for me and just plain weigh me down. But I have an advantage in that “When people are damaged, they can often meet the world with a kind of defiance” (J. K. Rowling).
I’m so broken that I don’t know how to really feel good about the work I’m doing or the life I’m leading.
Just like the heroines in “That’s What She Said”, I’m flawed, messy, damaged, hilarious and culpable and not really concerned about being acceptable to the ‘audience’ in any traditional sense, which for me is what makes me all the more gorgeous. The fearless truth in this is what makes it funny; because I hurt and I cry but you will never see the depression in my eyes because I will smile.
It is no secret that my heart is damaged. All the treatments and medications haven’t helped with that. So there will be nights when I’m curled up in a ball on the floor and I won’t talk to anyone. I push people away. I don’t trust- not really. Because everyone has always left and chosen someone else.
Every time I’m convinced that I have come back from these damaged places, I don’t want to spiral back there, so I check myself and keep myself in check. If it means that I have to cut people off to avoid being hurt, so be it. Nobody can take care of me better than I can, right?
Lastly, I’ll take my time to get to where I want to be. Because the first step is acceptance. I am damaged goods and when something is so damaged, you can’t fix it in a moment. The only thing is time.
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