I found this piece, scrawled months and months back, in my notes. It’s pretty heavy and it feels pretty freakin’ powerful to be sitting in a completely different place from where I was when it was birthed – but the truth of (the majority of) these words still rings true. Except, from where I am today, I don’t believe that the heart is never whole again. I believe that the experiences that crack us open and break apart aspects of ourselves and our hearts actually, in turn, create space and room for the light (and love) to sneak in. A fractured little heart is the perfect landscape for greater love, happiness and appreciation. My heart has never before been so big and full. Everrrr. Even after a little wear and tear. So take these words as you will. Today I’m droppin’ a more poetic piece here at BTM.

When the heart breaks – it doesn’t do so all at once.

Not like a bone that snaps or a glass that shatters.

It does so in pieces.

It fractures, it bends and cracks, with its wounds slowly and consistently deepening with every blow causing more widespread damage.

It becomes fragmented and compartmentalised. The microscopic breaks making it impossible for it to ever seem whole again.

Every word peels off another layer, every action makes it bleed a little more, every unanswered effort makes it crumble. But not all at once.

The heart stays intact long enough to protect you from the inconceivable reality that it will never be whole again. 

Blessings and a healed heart x

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