If something, whatever that 'something' is, is become less than we expect, then we should throw that something away.
One particular event left me feeling in despair, not presentable, disgusting, less than whole. I had hoped, hoped, hoped what had happened was just a terrible nightmare. I would awaken to find this surprising, worrisome experience just a fleeting figment of my imagination. But that was not the case. Not a chance.
The reality is, the details of what caused that one time occurrence remains uncertain. Some have become nervous twitches. At times, without warning, I am thrown into a temporary state of heightened awareness and panic, fearing the possibility that that dreadful event might happen again.
I am also more acutely aware of my flaws and imperfections.
With some distance from the event now, I have been inquiring and discerning whether these flaws, this brokenness, render me worthless, worth less, or undesirable rubbish, on any level.
What if my consuming concerns were and are mere shallow or unsubstantial considerations? What if terrifying or altering experiences were meant to challenge me and transform me into a stronger person?
The full extent of the damage or impact the event had still remains to be seen. The unknown looming over me like a dark ominous shadow leaves an unsettling sharp pain in the pit of my stomach. But, I believe I was meant to reinterpret the occurrence for the better, for my own life and in the assistance of others.
Some how, I am to show others that brokenness - whether physically, emotionally, psychological, or brokenness manifest in some other way - does not render a person worthless. Despair, seeming unbearable sadness, gnashing of teeth might be part of the grieving process. Understandably so. But, the narrative does not stop there.
I do not know how things will play out, not with any picture perfect clarity. When I gaze forward, I can sort of make out some brightness ahead. I shall attempt to hold my head high, even if I am tempted to keep my face hidden and unnoticed.
