patchwork me

7.14.2016

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry” --Ernest Hemingway

I've lost count of how many times I've heard how "strong" I have been in the face of much loss. And each time I hear that, I get a little more angry. Strong? What choice do I have? I hid out, barely leaving my house for almost a year after my husband died. An hour away left me feeling anxious. But after a year, I realized that I wasn't going to be lucky enough to just slowly, romantically die of heartbreak. So...I started picking up all of the pieces and sewing them back together. I might be strong, but I am still broken. Things don't fit or function the way they used to. I'm a makeshift, piecemeal version of who I used to be. On my best days, I feel I might be a favorite, well-worn pair of jeans, with patches in all of the worn spots, giving them strength in the areas that are weakened from hard wear. But on the rough days, I still feel as if the patches are sewn with the finest of thread, seams ready to break at the slightest strain.

#grief #strength #broken