I Don’t Want to Be Broken

Someone whose writing I adore and connect with so much said she felt so much better when she wasn’t judging others. How true.

It can be so tempting to start pointing those fingers, declaring that what you’re doing isn’t the right, the best, good, etc.

The problem is, I’m a textbook projector. It’s a sure bet (that is, if I gambled any longer) that the second I start to uncrook my pointer finger and settle on a target, I need to hold up a mirror and say the words to myself. I’m so quick to point out the faults in others that I dislike the most about myself.

Here’s the truth. I don’t want to be reliant on 7 meetings a week. I don’t want to be reliant on GA or a therapist or sobriety to fix me. I don’t want to have to be fixed. I don’t want to be broken.

I don’t want to be broken. Goddamnit, I don’t want to be broken. Why am I broken and others aren’t?

I feel like I’m starting to glue things back together right now. I’m making progress. I’m doing better in many ways. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m broken in the first place.

I know, I know - our flaws make us interesting. And I will concede that my struggles have made me far more tolerant and understanding of others’ addictions and issues. But I’d much prefer to not be broken, to not have made a mess of things and to not have to remain vigilant for the rest of my life.