Beauty in Brokenness.


We live in a society that values perfection. Perfect teeth, perfect lives, perfect bodies, perfect everything and nothing is perfect. Maybe if its fake and unauthentic. I always want people to know the real me…by the real me I mean different parts of me. I, like any normal non artificial human being has issues, flaws, skeletons in my closet, or just my own shit that isn’t together or even pretty to look at it. I want people to know that I know what it’s like to be so happy that watching the sunset gives me the feeling of being in the right place, that I know what it feels like to be in the right place and doing the right thing like when I was able to share my story in early February at the Suicide Free NC conference and was told how much of an inspiration I was. I also want people to know that I’ve locked myself in a bathroom to cry, that I’ve worn hoodies in 90-degree weather to hide the cuts on my arms, and that I have begged my parents to let me die. These are all apart of who I am. My PTSD, my obsessive compulsive disorder, my anxiety, my depression are all pieces of me but in no way over shadow the absolutely vibrant, fucking hilarious, greedy, loving, selfless, insightful, empathetic, spontaneous, adventurous, and purely AMAZING person that I am. You know what makes me even more wonderful? The fact that I’ve known what it means to fight like hell to keep breathing. That I know what it feels like to be in the depths of hell emotionally and I treasure small moments so much more now. That I know what it means to be determined no matter how many obstacles stand in my way. That I insist on happiness relentlessly. That my clients ask me how long I have been a therapist (even though I’m not a therapist) because my empathy runs deeper than a book or a bad day. So no…I am not perfect. I don’t aim to be. I am not fundamentally flawed either because I’ve been through some shit and I’ve got more shit to work through. I am flawed but it’s not something intrinsically wrong with me. My struggles do not define me, my mental health does not define me, but it is a large part of what makes me even more beautifully complex.  My advice to you if you are reading this and wondering if you are worthy of being loved…rest assured you are. The Great Architect of the Universe made you specifically for a purpose here on earth…he crafted you with care and precision. There is only one of you and He saw fit to make you and place you here. I haven’t found “the one” to love me in all of my mess but I rest assured that I have a Heavenly Father whose love runs deeper, whose passion runs wider, and whose care can never be replaced. If people don’t see how absolutely wonderful you are then value yourself enough to walk away. If your friends cannot accept you on your rainy days the save the sunny ones for those who care about how you feel even when it’s not easy to deal with. There are a million reasons to love someone like you and me even if our paths are different. “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” Psalms 139:14


P.S if no one has told you today I love you, you are so fucking wonderful. You are here for a profound reason that your being may never even understand.


Sending you all my love & light

XOXO Harmony

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