Kintsugi.
A traditional Japanese art form that involves repairing broken pottery with a special lacquer mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.
the process of healing isn’t linear, that’s what most people that came out from therapy had as a take-home-message.
but it is discouraging when all you’ve been working on — all for the sake of feeling happy, no, at the least in peace; crumbles on a random tuesday.
understanding that no matter how much we try to change, your childhood will always live within you, is a hard thing to understand.
after all sometimes all we want is to put it on the back of our head.
but you do understand, everything that happened shaped you as a person now, right?
maybe it affect your attachment style, or what you seek, or even bits of your personalities.
not all of them are bad, sometimes i’m actually grateful it happened; in the most ironic way.
sometimes you realize you wouldn’t change yourself into this version, perhaps you adore or felt alright with it, without the occurances.
either your empathy to others, or grace you have given despite your hurts.
but within that gratitude, there’s also resentment. why did it happen? why did i have to understand that? everyone went fine without understanding what i went through, so why me?
and despite how good we try to keep it together, some days you see cracks within it.
it’s like a leaking roof, with puddle of water so heavy it started to drip.
there will always be a leak, always. one day it will arrive. and i am extremely exhausted.
what do i do with all these? where should i place all these grief of something i could never understand?
but i have the idea of what to do now, so if you’re also feeling what i’m feeling, listen to me as you prepare yourself a cup of warm tea, okay?
when you hold your warm cup of tea, feel it generate to every inch from your fingers to your palm. let the warm steam brush against your cheeks as it pinkens and take a sip.
the knot in your throat — swallow it within each sip. let the warmth ease it until it reaches your chest.
there is no cure for this, you know this. but it doesn’t have to chain you from running away. run, run and run. when this sadness greets you, may it be under the bright sun and fresh breeze. may it be within the peonies garden.
what has been broken, can’t be turned back into it’s original form;
but you are kintsugi, you mend your broken pieces with silver and gold. you wear your scar with pride and courage, you celebrate it.
nobody picks themselves up after one milisecond of falling, you don’t have to mend yourself immediately.
if it’s hard, sit down with it and caress the wound gently first. let yourself feel the pain and cry, understand that ‘it hurts, it aches so bad, it stings’. just because you put a bandaid on it, doesn’t mean it stopped hurting. but you did your best cleaning the wound and closing it again, let time and your own body (who cares about you so much) heal it.
when you came from a burning house, you came out in flames. it might be scary to alot others, but some will step forward to embrace you and stop the fuming fire. if not them, you will jump into a cold lake under a beautiful spring, and with pride get yourself out soaking.
let there be an ease, a guarantee. you have went through it, it shall pass again. and under a rockier bottom, there’s a higher peak.
there’s not much an explanation of why it happened, sometimes it’s not for a greater good nor because the upper ones have promised you a bullshit gift. (you don’t have to earn something from getting hurt)
sometimes, it just happened. and despite it’s unfair and not our responsibility, it doesn’t mean you have to be six feet underground to know the spring awaits for you.
maybe what heals is something very simple: the scent of a wet soil, the extra yolk in your eggs, or your best friend telling you they have watched your favorite show to understand why you love it.
i promise, there’s still so much for you to adore.
let those little moments in your life in, allow it to make space for you to breath easier.
may your love and your gentleness preserving in this life, may it be the lacquer to your kintsugi.
hey, kintsugi. you’re more beautiful than ever now.
