“ Because what I have learned is that no life is ever broken. Damaged, yes. But not broken."
Over the last few weeks I have stumbled terribly, slept more than usual, walked a hundred miles, read books about healing, made a conscious effort to build a new friendship, listened to world music, got on my bright orange bike and rode the city streets for the first time in twenty five years, strutted my 53-year-old half-naked body around a gay Halloween party dressed as a leather daddy, had sex with two beautiful strangers, and cried my eyes out as I relived every painful experience from the past five years of my broken life, with long moments of silence that could only rival my childhood. I know that doing these things is the only path to repair. Because what I have learned is that no life is ever broken. Damaged, yes. But not broken. The damaged part is often born before, because when we allow someone to wreck us, it is mostly a shadow of aging, open wounds we have yet to heal. And I have a lot of those. Instead of fixing them, I have gone a hundred miles per hour for the last decade, helping everyone else get to where they needed to be, healing their pain or driving their dreams, because I know what it is like to have them crushed by other human beings, starting at the hands of an abusive adult when I was five years old. I have the spirit, but I can only find the fight when it is someone else's hill to climb. That is how much damage abuse does to a child. It buried me in tremendous pain and tore my self-esteem into confetti, which I now toss over everyone's head but my own. That is what I have realized in the last six weeks. I had made myself so busy, given myself so totally to someone else, that I have isolated and just about disappeared. I have deprived myself of the excitement of discovery, the joy of spontaneity, the strong arms of faith, and the right to sometimes simply fuck up. With all I have experienced, I forgot that I am now my own best research, my own wisdom, and when I need to be, my own superman. My own, for me. So up I go.