"Sometimes, we all get a little broken. [...] A little broken. [...] At what point do you get so broken that it's time to just get thrown away?" [Maureen Johnson's Scarlett Fever]. We each have our share of broken moments, some more than others, but nonetheless, they are unavoidable. We hold onto whatever we can: God, family, friends, money, alcohol, drugs, a single constant in the blazing fast changes that whirl around us to no end. Tears make situations hurt more, but being strong and attempting to move on brings our breaking to be that much more critical.

Holding on is the easy part, when looked at from each aspect. It is not similar to hanging off of a cliff, where falling off and dying is the more attractive choice. Instead, it is deliberate whereas letting go of the ledge comes easily when one has no more strength. Finding a way to not ruin everything else we have organized and participated in is the difficult part. School, work, neighborhood, church... each place is perceptive to changes in attitude, sometimes costing us more than we signed up for. A serious job loss leading into poverty, an ugly divorce, domestic abuse, fill in the blank are all factors that we may not be able to control. Coping methods are problematic, coming without naturally without choice and only making things worse. Due to that, the kids in the struggling family end up with Fs in half of their classes, finding no relief at home and releasing their angst on school. Consequently, people surrounding them acknowledge changes in our actions and interrogate the details folded beneath the rug perfectly, indirectly forcing our decision.

Keep going as best as we did before or just forgetting our attempts? It is painful, brutal, and life-wrenching when the decision is the latter. When we see "what's the point?", when being downcast is the norm. Anti-depressants don't solve it all. Sports don't offer aid either. Most temporary resorts leave us more unraveled then before, where we are frayed past the edges. And brokenness continues... Thus, when are we too broken and need to just be thrown away? I explore the question thoroughly, aware of the subjectivity of it. I find that I feel similar to the person described above more and more now. Friends are made but no real moments of realization in who will survive high school with me and who the true friends are. Family struggles run deeper by the day, another layer of icing off the cake before there is none left. Religion having been fed to me from all angles, socially, familial-ly, and mentally last year at a private Christian school, St. Davids and now having to distinguish: is this my faith or my parents? Do I really yearn for this or only pretend to because it makes life easier to get along with my parents? Senses of belonging linger in my book as I close it and no where else. With three kids and two closer in age, sharing the same friends, you'd think I would have adjusted to their exclusion, but no. Christmas is the absolute last thing I want right now: all the siblings home to bask in the unhappiness in my family that can't be placed aside for the briefest of moments. As all these thoughts flood my brain, overwhelmed just by thinking about it, I wonder, maybe I am just too broken to be fixed.