Brave enough: finding strength to admit our brokenness

 

From the start, my purpose for writing “A nasty word called addiction…” centered on a message of hope and redemption, as well as a way to mark a milestone in my own journey of healing. It’s no secret that many of us suffer in silence from a laundry list of afflictions. Yet, the older I get, the more I feel a kinship with those who hide behind the fake smiles, the false bravado. Because I, too, share the DNA of brokenness. Yet, as I navigate—aka stumble, skip or sidle (depending on the day)—this season of Club 50, I often entertain second thoughts about broaching various “taboo” topics in conversation or my writing. However, if we’re unwilling to allow ourselves the discomfort of vulnerability, then we miss an opportunity to engage in deeper connection with humanity, and ourselves. Transparency, I believe, serves as a catalyst to healing and a collective oneness. And affords us strength when we’re brave enough to admit our brokenness.

Are you brave enough?

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

With a little help from my friends

[Image credit: Master isolated images]

Friends are the mirror reflecting the truth of who we are.
~ Unknown

Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing.
There is a time for silence.
A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny.
And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it’s all over.
~ Gloria Naylor

I’ve written about my friends in past posts.  They truly are the mirror that reveals many of my flaws, but one that also magnifies those qualities which drew us to together in the first place.  Naylor’s quote goes beyond reflection into the hard core stuff — when we need a chance to flounder as we think and weigh and try again.  We don’t need judgment or “I told you so.”  We need someone who stands back and allows us to live and make mistakes.  But who will also be there to apply glue when it’s broken.

Are you the kind of friend who’s mastered the art of timing?

Talking — or writing — it out

[Image credit: digitalart]

I tend to talk too much.  Some would say I simply like to hear myself talk, although I prefer to call it thinking out loud.  Thankfully, writing fills the gap when there’s no one to talk to or no one who wants to listen.  According to Carlos Fuentes, writing is a struggle against silence.  And when I find myself dealing with things I have little control over, writing frequently helps me make sense of my thoughts and feelings better than when I talk it out.  I think it’s because there are no rules to follow (except for grammar and spelling because I just can’t help it); the ideas can just flow in their sometimes jumbled, other times orderly fashion.  Whether it’s an email, letter, blog post or is not meant to be shared at all, in the words of Isaac Asimov, writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.  And it’s a lot quieter, too.

Do you prefer verbal — or written communications — for “working it out?”

Standing up for yourself

[Image credit: aopsan]

Whenever I dine out, the server always pops over to ask how everything tastes right after I take a bite.  Sound familiar?  A few weeks ago, however, my mouth was empty when the owner stopped by my table, at which time I shared my disappointment in two of the food items.  In fact, it was the first time in my life I have ever returned an order I was not happy with.  I explained my dissatisfaction and was told both menu selections would be deducted from my bill.  Although I appreciated the gesture, I was frustrated because the server and the owner became defensive and argumentative, even suggesting I should have eaten at one of their ethnic-chain counterparts.  I wish I could say I had a good comeback on the tip of my tongue at the time, but I was proud I was assertive in the first place.  And who knows, maybe the little things I stand up for now are simply preparing me for something bigger around the corner.

Do you typically speak up, or more often settle in silence?