The other day, I had lunch with someone who said that they felt broken by a parent’s rejection. This person’s broken heart had led them to do a lot of things that hurt them and others. In particular, they said they fell in love – and did many hurtful things once that love felt threatened – because the object of their affection seemed broken, too.
Now, of course this is sad. This is someone I care about deeply. And I have seen at least a fraction of the ways that their pain multiplied with their beloved’s pain and spawned more of itself. I’ve also felt the sting of being chosen from someone’s pessimistic place. But their decisions made a kind of sense. We all need acceptance and understanding, even when we don’t understand ourselves. Water seeks it own level, or so the saying goes.
But this conversation also got me thinking about the word “broken” and what we can do if we see ourselves that way. I recently completed an emotional-healing journey that started with a YouTube ad that said (among other things), “You’re not broken.” I never watch YouTube ads, but those words came as such a relief. I felt like I could breathe my first deep breaths in a long time.
But why? What does broken mean, exactly, and why did thinking I wasn’t broken help me so much?
This month’s blog post starts a series I’ll call “As the Word Turns.” Contrary to its name, this series won’t always delve into intense emotions and drama. I will use it to explore words and what they really mean, though. After all, this is a poetry blog, not therapy. I might include a writing prompt or two every now and then. We’ll see.
Breaking Down “Broken”
So what does “broken” mean? The American Heritage Dictionary defines it this way:
broken [brō’ kən]: forcibly fractured into two or more pieces; shattered; violated; fragmentary or incomplete; disorganized; routed or defeated and scattered; crushed; exhausted; not working properly
American Heritage Dictionary, Second College Edition
Not fun, right? You probably think of a vase or a glass or something fragile when you hear “broken.” You see an object shattered, crushed to pieces, missing some part to make it whole again. Or maybe you think of some piece of technology like a phone or TV or a car. It won’t turn on or do what you want it to do, and you have to either fix it or throw it away. And honestly, in today’s society, it’s probably headed to the trash.
Can We Break?
In any case, you probably don’t picture anything like a human being. At least I hope not. Who can “fix” the complicated technology that is homo sapiens, and why would they throw one away instead of helping that person grow into a new and better human?
Yet we apply this term to ourselves and each other all the time. I know I’ve felt broken, literally and figuratively. What does this kind of thinking do to us? Do we start believing someone should just pitch us in the trash? Do we get desperate for someone else to “fix” us? After all, a vase or a television is just a passive object, waiting for someone with the right glue or the right skills to come along. “Broken” feels helpless, and helpless feels hopeless.
“Broken” feels helpless, and helpless feels hopeless.
Of course, sometimes we are broken, physically and emotionally. And we can’t always see the breaks. I broke my ankle (foolishly) playing basketball when I was 14, but I only knew because I heard the bone crack. Otherwise, I could wiggle my toes and even somewhat walk. Everything seemed normal(ish). Plus, broken heart syndrome is real, as we saw last month in Uvalde. So I won’t pretend that no one ever gets broken in life.
But what if broken isn’t where we have to stay? What if – like a broken bone that’s been in a cast for a while – we’ve moved on to being “wounded” without even knowing it?
Wounded Without Knowing It
So of course I looked up “wounded” in the dictionary, and the same source said this:
wounded [wo͞on’ dəd]: injured
American Heritage Dictionary, Second College Edition
Now that’s what I call simple. One word, one meaning.
And what does “injured” mean? “Harmed, damaged, impaired, or offended” according to the Oxford Languages Dictionary. It comes from the Latin word for “a wrong,” as in something unjust or illegal has created the harm. The injustice can happen to our hearts or our bodies, but either way, we’re not so bad off – not crushed or smashed, not missing any pieces or waiting for someone to come along and “fix” us. Not even thinking we need to be thrown away.
That’s why I think “wounded” is a better word for what most of us experience when we hurt. Like my fractured ankle, we may be emotionally broken for a time. But we don’t need frantic action or “fixing” to get better. We just need rest and to pay attention to ourselves, our recovery process. We’ve got all we need inside of us, and nature can take care of the rest. And maybe, with some rehab, our broken parts can bounce back stronger and more flexible than ever.
So why do so many of us assume it’s as drastic as “broken” or stay there too long when we’re really wounded? I suspect it has something to do with our ideas of perfection and fear of change, even change for the better. Or maybe we blame ourselves for our pain or simply don’t want to do the work to get better. I’m not a psychologist, like I said. I’m just here to write! So here are some…
Writing Prompts: Broken & Wounded
1.) In the Greek tragedy Philoktetes, the main character is an expert archer destined to bring down Troy. Along the way, he gets bitten by a snake and abandoned on an island for almost the whole Trojan War because his snake-bite wound won’t heal. He festers, too, blaming everyone who left him and swearing revenge. I didn’t get this one much in college, but now I see it more as a metaphor for how seeing yourself as broken can really be a decision to break and warp yourself every single day, instead of healing. So in that vein, describe a character like Philoktetes: someone who decides to break himself or herself – literally or figuratively – every day. You might put them in a play or just write a character sketch and see where it takes you.
2.) Every broken thing requires a crutch of some sort. Philoktetes had a bow that he thought he needed to live, and he wasn’t all wrong. Give a new or existing character in your writing a “crutch” (literal or figurative) that they “can’t get along without.” Then take that crutch away from them and write what happens next.
3.) Poems only exist because of line breaks…or do they? Write a prose poem that looks like a normal paragraph but does more than tell a story or give facts. It could discuss healing, being wounded, or feeling broken. A good poem will have at least one turn, so try to include two or more stages of the healing journey.
4.) Since other things can break besides people, write a persona poem from the point of view of something broken, recycled, thrown away, put back together, or wounded. You could choose a jar, a wine bottle, a smartphone, you name it. You might also write from the POV of someone or something about to be wounded or broken (cue dramatic irony).
5.) Finally, write about a moment when some outside character swooped in to “fix” someone else’s problem, and tell the aftermath of that. Did the “fixing” stick? Or did it fade over time? The outside intervention can come from a divine or human figure, but the main character cannot fix it himself or herself…at least not at first.
Feel free to post what you think or create in the comments, and to invert or twist up these prompts any way you see fit! Besos!