Petit loves are one of my favorites. It’s like walking into the ocean. You haven’t dived. Your head isn’t wet. But you still feel the waves. You’ve still said yes to this magical thing washing over you.
Petit heartbreaks are like that too. They don’t tear you open leaving you to pick up the pieces. Your ears aren’t ringing with regret or shame or lack. But you’ve still been altered. You aren’t quite whole or quite the same on the other side.
We’re so afraid of being broken. If that’s through rejection or from vulnerability not well received. And yet, we’re supposed to be broken. We shouldn’t leave this life unscathed. It can’t, we can’t, be too pristine to be broken sometimes.
And sometimes, the really good times, we realize it isn’t our heart at all that’s done the breaking, but who we thought we were, what we thought we could handle, the capacity that we’d set for ourselves to love, that’s shattered.
Life is built upon such brokenness.
It demands that we shatter sometimes.