“Damaged people are dangerous because they know they can survive.” – Josephine Hart.
I remember all the times I was told I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough or smart enough to be anything. I remember being told I was a nobody, that I am nothing and will always be nothing. That I am just another waste of space.
We’ve all had a bully in our lives. Someone who is mean and picks on you constantly. Whether it’s at home or at school, whether it was physical or verbal bullying – we all know a bully or had an encounter with one. The victim is often left anxious, depressed with little to no self-esteem and the haunting feelings of uselessness and helplessness.
My depression is deeply rooted in my childhood, which consisted of neglect, fear and the constant need of approval from parents and teachers. Speaking of my own personal experience with bullying, at home and in school, I still pretty much carry those feelings around. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t say something mean to myself. Whether something about how I look or how stupid I can be sometimes, I have to say something mean and heartbreaking to myself. Something, that I will never say to a friend or a stranger. It is a learned behavior that I picked up at the tender age of 6, continued to my teens, and extended in my 20’s.
The reason why I am telling you this, whoever is reading this and wherever you are, is because I know what it’s like to torture yourself with your words. I know what it’s like to become a person you hate and despise. I know what it’s like to not be able to look at yourself in the mirror without saying something truly and utterly disgusting to yourself.
There is no magical solution that will make you feel better and make the past disappear. It’s a struggle that you will often have to face and all you need to do is be the person you needed when you were a kid. Be the kind and gentle voice that you so desperately needed to hear. Love and cherish the child within you.
Always remember that you’re beautiful. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you look like, or where you come from – you’re beautiful. It doesn’t matter how broken, battered and bruised you are, you are still beautiful. Noting can change that. Nothing can ever change that.
The beauty of being damaged is that somehow, you still manage enough strength to go on about your day and live your life. The beauty of being damaged is that, despite what you were taught to believe, you’re still standing your ground, you’re still breathing, you’re still here. The beauty of being damaged is that you know exactly what to say to those who need kindness in their lives.
Best of all, the beauty of being damaged is that nothing can really break you.