I'm linking up with Lisa Jo again for Five Minute Friday. No overthinking, no backtracking, no editing this post. Just my thoughts for five whole minutes.
What does it mean to be broken? In my mind, it means to not be whole. To be in pieces. My outside isn't broken. All arms, fingers and toes are intact. So why do I feel broken on the inside?
Life has a way of breaking bad on you. At least it has on me. Some of it has been my own fault. Some of it has been just the luck of the draw. Some of it has hurt so bad that I didn't think I would ever recover. Broken. All to pieces. I feared it would show on the outside, so I tried to keep my brave face on. Did it work? A little. Enough for me to keep pretending that everything was a-ok, even when it wasn't. Even when there was a flood of tears like the whole entire Mississippi River flowing inside.
What's the remedy for a broken human?
We're all looking. Alcohol, drugs, food, sex, shopping, perfectionism, work...different ways to mend the same thing. A brokenness inside that won't stop cracking, chipping away, leaving a nerve exposed.
I've come to find out, as I've exhausted several different rolls of tape trying to fix my broken insides, that there is a difference between fixing and healing.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.