Gathering up the Fragments of Myself

When you mend yourself, you become golden.

There I was, looking down at the floor at the pieces of me, wondering how I would collect them all and put myself back together. As I gazed at the shards, I asked how I had allowed myself to become so fragmented. Would I ever be able to glue myself back together and be the same person? How did I get here?

How did I let someone make me feel like an empty vessel and as vacant as they were?

I was once precious China. But no matter how durable it may be, when you drop it, it will shatter. Not everyone appreciates or sees the importance of an ornately decorated piece of China.

For years, I tried to prove my worth to a man that would never see it. How could I have looked better, been better, and been as successful as he was? I was told by him that I wasn’t enough. I needed to be more and show my worth to someone with an inflated sense of theirs. It chipped away at my soul.

What could I do to anticipate his needs and please him, he asked as I continued to give more and more parts of myself away. I didn’t realize how hollow I became.

Did I ever believe that I was worthless and didn’t deserve someone’s respect or love? No, I did not! I was always cognizant and understood that it was his own emptiness that he was trying to project onto me.

But no matter how resilient you are, when someone talks to you with disrespect, focuses on your flaws and is negative, it eventually consumes you, and you become it. You start to fracture apart. The process is slow and can go unnoticed.

I gazed down at myself and realized that I was broken and scattered all over. Still, the fact of the matter was as insatiable as he was; I never gave all of myself away. Like a fire you try to snuff out, embers are always burning underneath – minuscule flickers of hope that refuse to be extinguished.

I collected all of my remnants, and as I did, I could feel my mind and sense of self becoming stronger and stronger. I didn’t want to be broken anymore.

Just like in the Japanese art of Kintsugi, I reassembled myself. My cracks and the areas where I had voids were now weaved with beautiful veins of gold. The gold aided in reconstructing me and assisted me in becoming someone different, unique, interesting, and resistant. It allowed me to shine.

Those lines of gold that mended me back together were now roadmaps to my heart and soul.

When something breaks, tiny slivers are lost. But those were parts that I didn’t need anymore. Because of the gold intertwined into my being, my light would never be able to be dimmed again, and my sparkle was now blatantly obvious. No one would be able to unsee it.

Not only did I rebuild myself, but I also became robust, extremely wise, and increasingly valuable. I decided I would share what I learned with others to ensure that no one else would be as shattered as I had once been.

That minute ember within me was now a raging fire, a bright blaze of beauty and complexity, whose flames will now ignite others so that they, too, can become a ferocious fire.

Life can either break us beyond repair or help us to grow and evolve into something extraordinary. We can stay smashed and fragmented, or affix ourselves and become perfectly imperfect works of art, just like Kintsugi.

©2022 Victoria Gregg. All rights reserved

I want to share the following story written by Yana Bostongirl about Kintsugi called Lovingly Mending my Brokenness with Veins of Gold. Yana initially told me about Kintsugi when she mentioned that one of my other pieces reminded her of it.

Here is a beautiful sonnet by William J Spirdione called Kintsugi.

I want to share one last piece on the subject written by Dr. Preeti Singh called Kintsugi the Saviour. Dr. Singh writes lovely stories about nature.

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