Broken – A Short Memoir
I need a hug. There’s a lot happening right now. Anger, fear, anxiety, loneliness, uncertainty - all of these and so much more can be used to describe my current state. On top of that, I’m turning 30 today. Yes - the big THREE-OH.
Aging has never been much of an issue to me. I’ve always wanted to be an adult, honestly. Of course it is getting a little scary now that ‘adulthood’ is approaching. Or maybe it’s past. Hold on - let me google “official start of adulthood”.
I couldn’t find a conclusive answer. The question seems to be different for everyone. Even my therapist told me that ‘adulting’ is not necessarily linear. It doesn’t have a clear path and trajectory. I’ve always known what ‘old’ is - ‘old’ is the point in time when you refuse to learn anything else in your life. You reach a point and say “that’s it, I’m done growing mentally”. That’s old.
In many ways, being 30 is like a gateway to the rest of your life. You’re no longer in grade school, you may have gone to college or further, but you’ve been living as an ‘adult’ for a few years and it’s time to take your training wheels off - or at least lift them up a little. There is so much more ahead and the directions to go seem limitless.
My 30th birthday, though, is coming on the heels of 5 months of constant anxiety, fear, and tension in this world. For the record, I am not saying that necessary protests or a world pandemic are less important than my birthday. But I am saying that it provides some interesting internal dialogue.
As I look at what has happened this year so far, it makes me wonder if our society - our world - is also at a gateway of growing up. A chance to develop into something it has never been.
It feels interesting to be on that precipice both in my own life and in the larger view of the world. It feels dynamic and volatile. It feels momentous and poignant. It also feels so underwhelming.
Part of me had an expectation that I would have won some kind of award by now. A Tony or an Oscar. Growing up, I had such dreams of fame that it’s hard to believe I’m currently not even performing. To this day, if I call my parents and mention I’ve had a bad day or I’m not feeling great, my dad will ask me if I’ve performed recently - if I’ve done stand up, or auditioned, or even went to karaoke.
It’s hard to imagine a life that didn’t go as you planned. More than ever, I would have thought I would find the rich self-love people exude when they’re confident. That one that says, “I know who I am and you should get to know that person as well.”
Early last year – around January 25 – I broke my leg. I was either getting into or getting out of an Uber. I wasn’t the most sober at the time so the exact details are a little uncertain. All I know is that the next day, a friend and I were going to the movies. I showed up at his place limping. Him being a former EMT decided to take a quick look at it and suggested a trip to the ER.
The healing process was quick enough; crutches for a couple of weeks, walking cast, and then just not running for a few weeks - not that I did much before anyway.
When you break a bone, it heals by growing a sort of bridge – at least, that’s how my fibula healed. As a result, though, that part of the bone becomes stronger than before, it becomes stronger than the rest of the bone itself. I think that’s kind of beautiful.
The truth is, I have spent so long with a broken spirit, a fragmented image of myself, a mutilated self-esteem. I’m ready for the bridge to be built between those disjointed pieces. To feel the power and warmth that comes from a healed brokenness.
And I’m eager to see how many broken bones the world sustains during this year. How much healed brokenness could result? How many bridges across disjointed pieces are built? I’m working on healing myself and I’ll work on healing the world as it happens.
I turn 30 today. Next time you see me, treat me to a hug. I’ll return the favor.
Have a wonderful day and a beautiful tomorrow!
Author not found. Created on June 5, 2020. Updated Oct. 26, 2020. From Health & Fitness.