To me, “Living Broken” best describes what my life feels like. I am living. I am indeed living. I am living a full life, an active life, a meaningful life, and a busy life. But a piece of me is broken.
My brain is broken.
My brain is wired in a way that doesn’t work as well as it should. My brain doesn’t do its normal brain business in a way that’s helpful or necessary for the basic activities of living. So I spend every day of my life making adjustments to accommodate and manage the messages my brain delivers.
To me, that’s a broken system.
I know that other people living with struggle don’t describe themselves as broken. And that’s okay. Everyone caught inside the complexity of struggle has semantics that work for them. And everyone has semantics they hate.
I personally hate the words depression, mood, and happy.
The word “broken” helps me to think of my condition as just another condition that needs some attention, management, or fixing. The word broken helps me to remember that my condition is just a part of my life, not the entirety of who I am. Broken, to me, just means that I, as a person, am living life with the distraction of a broken part. It’s like a beautiful, wonderful home with a basement that gets flooded when it rains no matter how hard you try to keep it from flooding.