I grew up in the 80’s and 90’s, when the fashion vacillated between cool and questionable, the music ranged from undying classics to totally cheesy one hit wonders, and the fads came and went faster than we could keep up with them.  One that stands out to me at the moment is those little artsy pictures we used to look at in the 90’s that had hidden pictures within them.  You know the ones, those abstract mosh pits of color that looked like an inebriated clown puked on them.  Those things used to frustrate me to no end.  Everyone else could focus their eyes in whatever way a person is supposed to and see whatever it was that was hidden in there, but I just never could see it.  It wasn’t until around a decade and a half later when I realized I had an astigmatism, which is why I can’t see them.  Ah, such is life!

Since my divorce, I’ve learned, and am still learning, more about myself than I did in the 37 years that preceded it.  I have learned that I am extremely untrusting, a perpetual worrier, a sufferer of anxiety, prone to bouts of rather ridiculous neurosis on a regular basis, somewhat irresponsible in certain areas, an overthinker and over-analyzer, a restless soul that can’t seem to get satisfied no matter what’s happening in my life, easily preoccupied with my deepest fears, terrified of abandonment, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, uncomfortable asking for what I need or speaking up when something is bothering me, conflict-avoidant, and many other things I could list.  In short, I’m a hot mess.  I have spent many mornings, afternoons, and evenings melting into a puddle of tears, wondering why I’m so screwed up, why I’m so damaged.  I’ve wondered what anyone could possibly do with me at this point, how anyone could ever love someone with all my complications and scars from the hell I’ve been through……….

Hey, though……..that last statement makes a difference.  The complications and scars come from somewhere.  These are not who I innately am.  These things were built, brick by brick, by everyone who trapped me in a mental prison.  The foundation was laid by people who would not let me fully explore who I was or think for myself.  Each brick of self-doubt and debilitating fear of trusting someone was lain with the mortar of constant criticism, full-on verbal and psychological abuse, and other people’s toxically twisted version of who I was being forced upon me as truth.  Although I did not make this mess, I am the one who has to pick up the pieces and rebuild something good from it.  And through my journey of attempts to do so (a.k.a., “life”), I may appear to the outside world and anyone I get involved with as…….well, as an inebriated clown.

When we look at ourselves or anyone else who might be exhibiting questionable behaviors, we usually tend to focus on the what rather than the why.   It’s natural to just notice someone who constantly worries and think, “Wow, neurotic much?  Just chill out and get over it already!”  But why are they constantly worried about things they seemingly have no reason to worry about?  Why does a person have such a struggle feeling safe with and trusting people who obviously love them and mean them no harm?  Why does your co-worker totally freak out and burst into tears every time she makes a mistake?  The behavior itself could lead us to think any number of things.  But asking why paints a totally different picture.

The answer to why isn’t always obvious.  Sometimes we have to refocus our view of the situation in order to find the answers.  Much like trying to find a flock of birds in a swirl of purples, blues, and greens,  it may take some dedicated effort to discover that the reason your friend breaks down on you if your mood shifts ever so slightly is that she learned that any little shift in mood meant severe abuse was coming.

How about yourself?  Do you ever look at all the damage your circumstances have caused in your life and let it send you to a bad place?  Do you get down on yourself for struggling with things others don’t seem to struggle with?  As I stated before, I have been there more times than I care to recall.  But how many times have you reminded yourself of why the damage exists?  When we refocus our view to recognize that the damage might have been caused by other people and other things, it can help us not to blame ourselves for our current difficulties and deficiencies.  IT’S OKAY. 

All that being said, it is, unfortunately, our job to clean up the mess other people made in our lives.  That is one of the great injustices of life.  Though it just flat out sucks, it’s reality.  Other people and situations may have dealt their blows, but we have to tend to the wounds.  The image that often comes to my mind is of a tornado ransacking a small down and shredding down homes and businesses, leaving a desolate land in its wake.  I feel like key figures in my life have blown through it like one big, huge, destructive tornado.  Now that the crazy storm is finally over, I have to pick up the pieces and rebuild. It’s not easy or fun by any means.  I’m constantly finding pieces that I don’t even know what to do with. 

“Wow, how did those ridiculous trust issues get there?  What do I do with those?”    

“Where did this unexplained sense of guilt come from?”

“What do I do with this enormous surplus of anxiety?”

Nevertheless, I rebuild.  Why?  Because I finally care about myself.  Because I have an unbelievably strong desire to live life to the fullest extent I can, and to enjoy it as much as possible along the way.  Because in all of my self-reflection, I also see through the damage to the good things, the things no one ever let me focus on.  I see someone with a big heart who doesn’t give up easily on people.  I see someone who cares about the feelings of others. I see someone who’s creative, who has good ideas.  I see someone who does their best to be a good mom.  I see someone who has a lot of love to give to the world.  Though I’m far from perfect, I’m also not made up entirely of other people’s negative perceptions of me, nor am I exclusively the sum of all my damages.  There is beauty in the brokenness.

When we only see the damage without looking further into the picture, whether it be in ourselves or in someone else, we miss out on so much.  But when we look at the why, the cause of the damage, it helps us adopt a much more healthy mindset.  The why can keep us from unfairly judging “broken” people (fact:  we’re all broken in some way).  The why can keep us from beating ourselves up over problems we didn’t create.  The why can keep us from getting stuck in fears of unworthiness and help us move forward in our journey to heal and embrace ourselves for the worthy human beings we are.  

There is always so much more to a person’s story than what we see on the surface, including our own. 

I am strong.  You are strong.  Let’s do this together!