I never considered myself broken till I heard the term.
I considered myself lost and not complete but never broken.
Lost because I just didn’t know how to find my way, how to coordinate through all the tough and ugly things that had happened to me. Lost in a world and at a time where being me was not a popular idea, it was considered mental illness, there was a demon stuck in me, I had no right to walk let alone talk. I didn’t know where Togo let alone turn to.
I know I wasn’t complete because as I grew up I noticed that I had gone through a lot of stuff at an age that others didn’t even know existed. I knew that I had missed so much in between. I knew that because I had rape and molestation happen to me I accepted things that on the norm no one did.
I knew that I misunderstood violence and being hidden away as a form of love. I didn’t know that love was supposed to be saturated in kisses. I was actually shocked that I knew sexual intrusion before what a kiss was. It was within those years of those horrific acts that I convinced myself that I was ugly, that I can only be accepted if I gave of myself no matter what, that to be loved was to be the sacrificial lamb.
It would take years before I found myself. It would take an addiction that would leave me barren, empty and bare for me to build myself from nothing and develop a sense of inner home. I have not looked back ever since. I’m not saying nor do I want to make it sound easy- it was far from that. The battle I had with fear was incredible. It was etched soooo deep within my being that I didn’t even know it was there. It moved into my aspirations, my love life, my friendships, my job and even my writing. I had to look it in the face and just PUSH! I had to stand up knees buckling and just go through it. I have come to terms that I will ALWAYS be a work in progress. That there will be days that I have it all well and then there are days that are riddled with anxiety and doubt. There are days that I will not be brave and that fear crawls in and tries to shake me that I can’t even cry and then there are those days that nothing can stand in my way. I move and walk in such truth and confidence that it feels indestructible. I am human and that is the beauty of it all. This journey will continue to beat me, stretch me, ignite me, push me and most of all help me live and grow. So I may be broken but mendable. I might be lost but I’ll find my way. I may not be complete but I’ll definitely create wholeness within these fragmented pieces.