broken
Last month, at the end of a long day that capped off a long week, I broke down. I was in the fetal position, spaced out, mostly unaware of the tears tracing the contours of my face. I was mentally and physically exhausted. I felt broken.
Earlier in the day, I stopped a training session I was leading at work. It was running long and we hadn’t made it through the material. I told everyone that I felt the session hadn’t gone well and the remaining content was too important to cram into a few hurried minutes. I felt rushed and off-kilter for most of the meeting. You see, my back had been screaming at me all day. I couldn’t think. Advil was useless. I should have pushed the meeting into the following week, but in the moment that didn’t feel like an option. It was an option by the way, we almost always have a choice in those stupid moments we don’t think we do.
While lying in bed that night, crying, I started to feel hope. I was completely fried from the chronic pain and the mental and physical load that comes from being worn down over time. But I was hopeful because after nine-months of back and forth with doctors, surgeons, physical therapists, and my insurance company, I had a date set for surgery. Surgery feels like an overstatement, but whatever. The date was set to have an Intracept Procedure performed on my back.
That date was a few weeks ago, the procedure went well, and I am recovering. I don’t believe in miracle cures or silver bullets, but this procedure feels so promising for me personally. Maybe because, like a new year or starting a new job, this is an opportunity to start fresh. I don’t feel quite as fragile at the start of the day, physically struggling to get out of bed. I don’t feel completely broken as I lay down at night, exhausted from being uncomfortable for most of the day. And even through the procedure didn’t actually repair anything physically, mentally it might have.
I’ve been thinking about the Japanese art Kintsugi for a while now, thinking of how I can apply the idea of it to my own life. Kintsugi dates back to the 15th century, and is the art of repairing pottery by mending the broken seams with a mixture of lacquer and powdered gold. The philosophy is rooted in the idea of embracing the flawed or imperfect, the idea that worn or damaged goods are not to be discarded. Rather, we should highlight the cracks and repairs as events in the life of an object. We should help the item continue with purpose, scars and all.
“All things are created and destined to be broken someday. I think being broken or damaged is never a bad thing. All of us develop scars throughout our lives, but these scars should not be hidden.”
And that’s where I find myself; figuring out how to how to accept my imperfections, repair my cracks, and wear my scars lovingly. There is more repairing to do, physical therapy, acupuncture, lifelong changes to my physical routines. The thing is, I still have so many things to do, places to go, literal mountains to climb. I’m feeling ready to continue with purpose, scars and all.