At a survivor support group meeting a few months ago (the first and only one I've been to), I sat among a group people who’d been broken by suicide. Our hearts had been broken, our futures had been broken, and our trust most certainly had been broken. I didn’t go back after that first meeting, because I was scared. I was scared because so many of them didn’t seem healed. I was scared that I’d always be broken.
But here’s the thing I’ve now learned about being broken. The world doesn’t abandon you. You think you would be discarded, pushed aside for the pursuit of perfection, but this world doesn’t foster perfection. It fosters chaos and confusion and progress and growth. It asks us to be vulnerable. You're better when you're vulnerable. Facades are damn exhausting.
There is an old Japanese art called Kintsugi where broken pottery is repaired by filling up the cracks with gold. This art form does not hide the brokenness of the pottery; instead it celebrates it. The breaks become a part of the object’s history and uniqueness, and make the piece even stronger than before. Some collectors will even smash valuable pieces of pottery just so they could put them back together with gold. They understand that brokenness is an opportunity to become more beautiful.
So maybe a lot of us are broken, but we are also more honest and more open because of our cracks. And when the gold starts to fill us in, we'll be even better than before.