I Hope You Learn To Love Your Broken Pieces

I hope you learn to love your broken pieces.

Like places where something sharp broke your skin has left tiny scars. They’ve healed over now, but if the light hits you at just the right angle, those pieces will glisten and shine just like a gemstone.

They will sparkle and twinkle like bits of magic, too.

Those scars are bits of your magic.

They are the threads of your story — of loving and learning and hoping and dreaming. They’re the marks of trying and failing,  and their shine is a reason to keep on living.

I hope you learn to love your broken pieces.

Like when you get mad at your body for breaking and failing and not doing what you want it or hope it or wish it to do.

Like when you feel like you’re hurting and the world is too much, and you can’t keep your head above water.

The things you wish you could sweep aside are a beautiful part of you, too. Every grey hair, every wrinkle, and every freckle is worth loving. The pounds you try to hide, the blemishes on your skin, your uncooperative hair — those are are all worth loving, too.

To be here ,  living and breathing with your heart beating, to have legs that will carry you and hands that can hold, is a gift.

I hope you learn to love your broken pieces.

Like when you have made a mistake after mistake. The feeling that comes with making a mistake and failing can be crippling — but those mistakes are not your end punctuation. They are not walls to keep you contained, they are not a rug to hide under, and they are not what makes up all of you.

They’re a mistake you made ,  a lesson that you’ve learned, a part of your journey and your growth process.

And even with all of that ,  you are still lovable.

And even with all of that ,  you are still worthy of redemption, grace, and love.

Even with all of that.

I hope you learn to love your broken pieces.

Like kintsugi and mosaics and the rise and fall of the Phoenix , I hope you see that there is beauty in the breakdown.