Why Broken Things Are Good for You
When the bowl fell and broke into pieces, I felt shattered into pieces as well. The grief over this little broken object was shocking and completely inadequate. Yet it was real, and it was deep. Looking for answers, here’s what I found:
1. The Bowl Was a Symbol of Loss
It was one of three bowls that I had bought at the De Young Museum in San Francisco, decades ago. Industrial design, nothing precious, nothing unique. But the two years in San Francisco had been among my best years, embracing youth, freedom, optimism and adventure, filled with art and sunshine and innocent joy. The design and the joyful orange colour of the three bowls represented exactly that.
2. It Couldn’t Be Replaced
The breaking of one of the three became a symbol for something incomplete that would never feel whole again. Just like me, who, in the course of a rich and colorful life, had to leave dreams behind and face a reality that sometimes was almost unbearable. What I had lost couldn’t be brought back into life.
3. It Was a Symbol of Unresolved Grief
But there was more to it. My first emotion when looking at the broken pieces surprised me: It was linked to the grief over my mother’s death years ago. It had been dramatic: The vessel that had received, carried and brought my life into this world shattered into pieces by her own hand.
The guilt that I felt for failing to keep my mother from ending her life is the worst a daughter can experience. Just like the death of a child is for a parent.
Now, my mother had been gone for more than three or four years when the bowl broke. I had been to therapy after her death. And now, that broken little bowl reminded me that despite the years that had passed, the pain was still huge. It reminded me that I was still broken and far from feeling whole. Pain was lingering cruelly close to the surface, ready to break out any minute, without control.
4. The Bowl Became a Symbol for Healing
The broken bowl forced me to feel the pain once again, to cry and dive deep into my broken heart. But it held a golden opportunity as well: To experience grief with such force became my gateway towards healing. It became my “wound through which the light enters,” as Persian poet Rumi said.
I collected the broken pieces, even the porcelain dust. At first, I didn’t do anything with them. Months passed. Then, one day, I suddenly felt the urge to put the pieces together, a Herculean act. But I did it, and I found that it made me feel better. I had put the pieces together. Just as I had faced the abyss and somehow managed to conquer it. It did not destroy me. I was alive.
5. It Became a Symbol for Resilience
Again, years passed. The glued-together, not-so-good looking but somewhat complete little bowl sat in my China cabinet. I would never give it away or dispose of it, despite its deplorable looks. Then, I came across an article about the Art of Kintsugi and realized, that this is exactly what I had – instinctively – done: TSUGI meaning “connection,” KIN meaning “Gold.”
How to do it:
First, collect the pieces, then connect and glue them together. Finally, cover the cracks with precious gold. Kintsugi taught me to apply the finishing magic to my bowl: the GOLD.
The gold highlights the cracks instead of hiding them. It turned my bowl into a symbol of reconciliation with the past. My very own hard-earned symbol of resilience.
6. It Became a Symbol for Empowerment
It may not be the most beautiful, but certainly is the most precious, UNIQUE and beloved bowl in my household. This bowl tells my story. It is a witness to my strong will to carry on, to overcome death and say yes to life.
A YES in bright orange and gold.
Today, 11 years after my mother’s death, I feel gratitude when I look at my bowl. I am proud of it.
Today, I have gone beyond my cracks. I have gone beyond the guilt and shame. I don’t hide the cracks. I show them, when adequate or necessary. I write about them to help others understand and heal.
It doesn’t mean that I don’t feel grief every now and then. But I know that it is part of life. It made me who I am: a woman who can, at last, feel the feelings she has and not fear that they will destroy her.
Today, I have turned my cracks into gold.
7. It Has Become a Symbol of Victory
This bowl is a visual reminder of my victory over circumstances: what I couldn’t do for my mother (and what was never my task anyway), I could do with my bowl (and myself): put it (and myself) back together, make it (and me) whole again, and realize that it is (and I am) stronger and more beautiful than ever before.
Trauma sits deeply in our autonomic nervous system. It cannot be “forgotten” or “eliminated” or “overwritten” by positive mantras. The healthy, healing way to deal with trauma is to acknowledge it, then integrate it into our lives.
What we survive makes us stronger. Even if it means a hell of a lot of hardship and pain for quite some time. Eventually, what is wounded can heal into a scar. The scar on our skin reminds us of our vulnerability but also of the fact that we have survived.
8. Broken Things in Your Home
Theories like Feng Shui are strict about broken things in your home. They symbolize something broken in your life; therefore they must be removed from your environment. Also, broken things should not be passed on to others as this would invite bad luck. Broken objects are to be disposed of, period.
I basically agree. I am all for saying goodbye to things that no longer support the person that we are today. We need to be surrounded by resources of joy and wellbeing in our present day. Things without such meaning are a burden. We need to be selective about what (and whom!) we surround ourselves with.
Yet, there may be good reasons for repairing things that are damaged – if they are worth it. Worthiness is defined by the beholder of the object. It is all about a specific meaning on a personal level and has nothing to do with an object’s material value.
Apart from the obvious ecological impact of keeping an object instead of replacing it, there may be another, higher gain. Broken things of personal meaning, if well repaired, can visually “anchor” that you have gone beyond your cracks and moved on.
With all of today’s excitement about decluttering and minimalism, it sometimes seems to me that discarding things has turned into a kind of sport. Does the fast and furious letting go of things really always serve our quality of life or make us turn into better human beings?
Now, although it may all make perfect sense and be helpful – why not give it a second thought? Who knows, there may be a promising case of Kintsugi healing waiting for us, guiding us to uncover the precious gold of our soul.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
When have you last let something go from your home that you afterwards realized you missed? Are there objects in your environment that symbolize unfinished business? What is the most meaningful object (apart from yourself and your pet) in your home?
I love this message, it resonates well with me personally and professionally as a wounded soul and as a nurse. I believe my soon to be released book “Between Wounded and Well:Lessons in Healing, “ a memoir about a 14 year old mother who surpasses her dream to become a nurse , symbolized my wounded / damaged self with all the cracks revealed , to help others understand the healing process. http://WWW.debrapalmer.com
Debra, that’s quite a biography you share in your book. I wish you many readers who find your message healing and helpful. All the best for your book launch!
I feel very sad when something sentimental gets accidentally broken, but at the same time it sometimes makes me feel it’s time to move on beyond the sentimentality.
Out of the most traumatic experiences I’ve had, one was a burglary at my house 33 years ago when all of my jewellery was stolen. It was just before Christmas and a number of houses in the street suffered the same fate. Nothing was ever proven but it was blamed on the son of a neighbour recently released from prison who had a drug habit. He disappeared after all the burglaries.
The second was about 12 years later when the same house was flooded by a burst pipe and we lost the bulk of the contents and personal effects (wrangling with the insurance loss adjuster was hell, the house took 18 months to dry out and was uninhabitable).
Whilst the first experience was scary, what the second experience taught me was we’d collected too much “stuff” in our married life and there were things we needed to let go of however sentimental they might be. I did manage to save the teddy I’d been given as a 2 year old, I had him dried out, cleaned and restuffed. He’s still with me.
Linda, how wonderful that you can interpret the breaking of an object with sentimental value as a nudge to move on. I congratulate you. You’re either a natural at moving on and/or have learned tremendously from both life changing incidents: a stranger invading the privacy of your house and stealing your jewelry, and the flooding (and devastation) through a broken pipe in your home. I am very touched by the loving mental picture of your saved, dried and restuffed teddy. What a joyful reverence to your 2year old inner child. Thank you for your comment and Hi to Teddy!
My father killed himself, almost 46 years’ ago. — Though I loved him and feel he was basically a good and decent father, his mental illness and subsequent death are still raw to me – and are difficult to discuss. As much as I wish I could be past that trauma, along with other traumas in my life, it never really goes away. However, your article makes me wonder if I might have more healing, if I could start doing repair work, of some kind. Maybe I could work with other people who are troubled . . . I just don’t know. — None of us deserves to be held captive by the unrelenting torment of an ill parent’s suicide. Their pain seems to linger, even in bits, inside our hearts. We go on, yes, but that pain is there . . .
Trauma cannot be disposed of. It is not steered by cerebral activity which we can learn to control. Trauma sits in our autonomic nervous system. It does what it does. Our trauma responses are automatic strategies of our smart nervous system to help us survive. Guilt is one of these strategies. Trauma can only be integrated: Through working with our bodies, through acknowledging the pain and ideally, with the help of trauma experts as witnesses of our pain, we have a very good chance to heal and move on. We need a lot of time for that. We will still feel sad sometimes, but we can absolutely learn to recover faster and not feel paralyzed anymore.
I think that repair work of any kind, especially with other people who understand what you have gone through, can be a comforting and helpful experience.
With such a parent, you have taken on an immense challenge to overcome. You deserve to move on. You deserve a good life. You deserve to love and feel loved. You deserve healing. I wish you the best for your journey.
Thank you for your kind and gentle reply, Miss Beate . . . I have never considered (nor realized) that trauma sits in our automatic nervous system – and that our trauma responses are strategies of our nervous system. I also didn’t realize that trauma can only be integrated. — I did have many years of therapy, sometime back . . . but perhaps I need to work with a certain type of trauma expert. Just the mention of my father hits me very deeply inside – in a spot so tender, that any thoughts of him are painful – and I quickly come to tears when I think of the trauma of witnessing him self destruct. It was a horrendous time for my father and also doubly horrendous for my mother, brother, and I to witness the years of his torment.
The thing is, my father was as equally as loving as he was mentally ill. He was honest, protective, and loved his family . . . but living with a man so mentally ill caused life-long trauma for my family. My brother became an alcoholic – my mother remarried, to a disgusting man who abused her – and I have struggled with my own bouts of anxiety, depression, drinking, restlessness, phobias, etc. I’ve even looked for my father, so to speak, in some of the men I’ve dated. Old patterns die hard.
I appreciate your supportive words – and I wish you the best, too. I hope I can finally get on with my healing and put my beloved father to rest (in my heart). He really was a beautiful man . . .
Amy, I am very sorry for your loss. It is helpful that you are writing your feelings out. As for therapy: just talking about trauma doesn’t heal it. That’s why trauma therapy is a specialized form of therapy that addresses the body. With all that you experienced and suffer from, I recommend you start looking for a licensed trauma expert. While trying to find the right one-on-one therapy, it may already help you to educate yourself on the topic. I.e. try listening to „therapy in a nutshell“ on YouTube: https://m.youtube.com/results?sp=mAEA&search_query=therapy+in+a+nutshell and find your way from there. I found self-education on the topic of trauma tremendously helpful – in addition to a competent therapist and of course, surrounding myself with truly supportive (non-toxic) people and a positive environment (my home, my choice of places to go and activities to do). It is never too late. It is worth the effort. THERE IS HOPE! I wish you the best.
My father committed suicide 55 years ago, when I was 15 years old. There are things so traumatic that we will never fully get over them. The pain has become less intense, but it is not gone. I wish you all possible healing.
Charlene, thank you for your contribution. You are helping everyone with such grief in their biography to read that they are not alone, and that it takes decades, or a lifetime. In times where everything seems doable and manageable it is especially hard to realize that pain cannot be simply eliminated by a pill or by positive mantras. BUT It is good news that it becomes less intense as we accept and integrate it in our lives. You are a heroine and a survivor and by sharing your story, you touch people’s lives. Best wishes for you!
This was a very good article because it introduced ideas. I had not thought about for a while. Thank you to the author.I had healthy loving parents, but because I’m in my 80s you know that my parents came from a generation that need to be reminded the children were people too. I wanted and needed somebody skilled and professional to help me and I have to say for those of you don’t know about BetterHelp that I recommend it. You can pick which therapist you want for online counseling and I get mine once a week with a woman who’s helped me a great deal. I’ve had to change out material possessions several times, but I managed to keep a couple boxes full of memories that I just take along with me.
Susan, I am glad that you found inspiration in my article. Yes, being in your 80s, your parents certainly come from a very different place of values, attitudes and possibilities. So wonderful that you have found competent support! Thank you very much for recommending a service (BetterHelp) that will be helpful to this community. I hope this reaches many who might benefit from your message. – my best wishes for you and your precious memories. Thank you for sharing.
I love this article. I was going to comment about kintsugi, and then you mentioned it! Even though I am a minimalist, I love the philosophy of kintsugi which teaches there is beauty in imperfection. Perfect!
Lauren, I think that the concept of minimalism goes very well with the old Art of Kintsugi. Kintsugi objects are beloved objects. Repairing a beloved object is making an informed decision about what to cherish and keep. And yes, beauty is an inherent quality of such a thing. Thank you for commenting!
Very interesting article. As a Jew, when something breaks, we say it should be your Kapura.! Meaning all bad things should happen to that bowl and not to you! That is how I have coped with broken things my whole life and in turn, it gives you joy!
Lorri, thank you so much for sharing this smart and helpful concept of Kapura. I like it. It gives you joy. Yes, so may it be!