Can the reality of my life and character--warts and all--be used for good in someone's life? I ponder this often, running it through my mind from every angle.
I've had a strong sense of duty since childhood which could account for these kinds of thoughts. But aside from that, as someone who is slowly (sometimes achingly slowly) recovering from the brutality and trauma of abuse, I yearn to use my experiences for a good purpose. I want to heal for myself, sure, but what of those whose paths I cross (either in person or via this blog) who need what I can share?
Was it John Donne who wrote "every man's death diminishes me?" To put a slight twist on it, the abuse of every child diminishes me. Diminishes everyone, truth be told. I'm not overlooking the fact that sexual abuse is itself a type of death. Death to the spirit, death to emotional development, death to the ability to experience intimacy, and death to hope.
I'm thinking of my DID and just how it could benefit someone else. My mind draws a blank. I feel all in pieces; how is that helpful? How can my life nourish or benefit someone else if every day is such a strain to survive? What am I doing, anyway, but spinning my wheels and dreaming the kinds of dreams I'll probably never attain to because of my brokenness?
And then I wonder, is brokenness so bad? Is it so shameful to be broken that I must continue hiding it from everyone? Oh and I'm so tired of plastering over the cracks of my soul and mind with false smiles and the acting out of what I think passes for normal behavior. I want to be me, whoever that is. The one I present to the world isn't me, she's a stand-in. She's not even another me, an alternate personality. She's a strange concoction my system and I have created, like some kind of creepy paper mache' doll. We all take turns speaking through her, but she's lifeless. She doesn't cry or itch or bleed, or feel anything.
I'm not humble enough, is what I conclude. If I were more humble I wouldn't care if my brokenness were on display. I wouldn't have an interest in what others think of me. I'm trying to hold it all together and pretend that I am whole, and not only is that absurd it's insanity. I'm not even sure if I'm fooling anyone.
And what of my brokenness? Should I try to bounce back from it? Or can I simply accept that this is who I am in the same manner that a recovering alcoholic must accept the fact that she will always be an alcoholic, whether or not she ever takes another drink? What's so wrong with who I am, is the point I'm trying to make.
Maybe I'm the only one who can answer that. What's so wrong with who I am? It's that it puts me out of sync with most of society. It gives me an outlook I can't begin to share with anyone who isn't broken in similar manner. It causes me great self-consciousness. Everything I say and do carries so much significance, in my own mind, because I'm aware of how off I am.
So what of my brokenness, then. I don't know, I think I'm stuck with it. I think it's not something I can decide to simply shuck off. I can do what advances my healing, all the while aware that it is slow going at best. And in the meantime? In the meantime I need courage to continue facing myself in the mirror each day.
That's about it. I can do no more and don't dare do any less.