Shattered

I am broken.

You are broken.

We are all broken.

But who will admit it first?

We build elaborate facades to cover and explain the cracks. We stuff, we bury, don't tell, we do anything to keep the intricate secret that we don't have it all together. No, I'm not depressed, I don't need help, I don't have anxiety, I don't deal with a rough past, I'm not confused or disappointed or afraid, I don't cry, I don't feel. 

Somewhere in the wall of nice outfits, fake smiles, and good grades we lose our humanity. Because let's be real, despite each of our panicked attempts to hide it, we are all broken. We all have demons lurking in the shadows. Life is hard. There are so many jagged edges, dark woods, and patches of quicksand that none of us makes it through unscathed. We all know that.

But we still are scared out of our minds that someone will find out....what? That we are just like everyone else?

And it doesn't just hurt us, it makes it that much harder for anyone else to own up to their struggles. Oh no! I'm the only one who hasn't gotten it right, what is wrong with me?! Facing demons is hard. Facing them alone is nearly impossible.

So this is what I ask: When someone tells you about their demons, don't put on a mask of sympathy. Don't swallow your own scars. Don't try to fix it all. Instead, just...

...break.

Because being broken alone only leads to pain - but being broken together leads to healing.

Don't Think.

The shrill beeps of my alarm send me scrabbling for my watch. I roll back onto my pillow, and thoughts are already racing into my mind, jockeying for position in my conscience: some random song from yesterday, the paper I have to print out before class, the fact that I should go running but probably won't, what day of the week is it anyway? I haven't even gotten out of bed, but my mind is in full gear - and that's just the start.

In chapel, in class, in seminars, during homework, in deep conversations in the wee hours of the morning - I think all the time. We all do. We are trained to be 100% on, 100% of the time because we don't want to miss anything, screw up anything, forget anything. 

When my head once again hits the pillow at the end of the day, I begin to relax. My breathing slows, my tired muscles soften....but my brain keeps going. I'm so used to being on that I can't turn it off. 

This is exhausting. 

So I snowboard. Ok, so that's a relatively new thing, but it's my current release from my mind. Hockey is the usual outlet, and running if I'm out of season, but this semester I had the good fortune to have snowboarding class fall into my lap. Yes, class. I get credit for hitting the slopes every Wednesday for six weeks. College is great :)

Not only am I having fun at these classes and learning a snow sport that always seemed so cool, I am resting. When I'm boarding, I don't think about homework, or applications for things, or whether I should go to bible study or FCA meetings. Instead, I feel the texture of the snow I'm carving, I pull my scarf over my chin against the rush of cold air, I focus on the bend of my knees and the distribution of my weight. Even on the lift, I pray and joke and gaze peacefully at the frosted trees. 

I get out of my head, and into my body. And it is wonderfully freeing. 

Yes, thinking is a wonderful thing, a thing to be done well, and often. But it is also a thing to take a break from. And I've found my rest in the rush of the slopes.