Broken

When I think of myself, I don't imagine some run-down, washed-up old woman. Sure, I'm not the vibrant dreamer I was when I was 20, but I haven't aged or fallen apart that much in the past 9 years (oh dear, my birthday's just around the corner now!). I see myself as a positive thinker, a strong woman, a mother, a friend, a wife. I see myself as someone who can weather any storm, and who has seen quite a few. I'm a fighter, although I'll never go looking for one. I'm a fixer, although I can't fix myself. I see myself as many things, and most of them are positive, but the one word that never changes is broken. I see myself as broken.

I've been broken for longer than I've been able to (legally) drink. Broken since long before I cast my first ballot in an election. Broken almost since I started to drive. I can hardly remember a time when I was whole...

Damaged goods.

I used to think someone would come along and patch me up, good as new. Some kind of hero would whisk me away, and life would be a fairy tale, fully of happily ever after. I thought someone would make the pain go away. Someone would shine a light into all the darkness and let in the sun forever. That never happened. That never will happen. It's a childhood fantasy. I'm a broken woman, and I always will be a broken woman. I'm okay with that.

Because, despite being broken, I've managed to piece together a pretty great life for myself. I have friends, I have family, I have people who love me and whom I love. I have dreams (still!), I have goals, I have drive. I have the determination to make it through every day and see through to the next. I have a daughter, a child, a little life who relies on me for her everything. And, broken as I may be, I give her everything. Everything I have, and more. I gave her life, and I will give her love until the end of time.

I may be broken. I'll always be broken, I'm sure... But that sure hasn't held me back yet!