The past month and a half has taught me so much about myself, relationships, the world, life, everything.
I started out thinking I was going to be broken forever; always half a heart, always a puzzle piece without an edge, always Matthew but never Matthew. Broken, bent, damaged beyond repair. Not by anyone’s actions but my own, I was my own worst enemy.
But time goes on, as much as I wish I could stay at a standstill. To me it’s so much more comfortable convincing myself this pain will never end, because it’s predictable. It’s something I can comprehend and understand. What’s terrifying is the possibility that one day I will be okay.
But with each tick of the clock, and passage of the sun overhead I realize more and more that being half a heart and a puzzle piece without an edge is part of what makes me Matthew. If I acted like I was anything else then I’m not being true to me. I’m not broken and I don’t need validation from anyone else but me to convince myself of that. I carry these scars as badges of honor, not scarlet letters that mark me as damaged goods.
Healing takes time. It won’t happen in one day. It won’t even happen in one month. Rushing the process will only hurt you more. Acting like you’re okay and pretending the puzzle peice does fit is only detrimental to the process.
You can be fine without being perfect. You can be alright without being okay. And you can be heartbroken without being broken.