There are certain things in life that we all have in common, married, unmarried or divorced. Religious or not. Parent or childless. Man or woman. These are the things that allow us to relate to almost every human on the planet, if we can’t relate to someone with one of these criteria then we can fall back on the fact that we are all human and most everyone has a bellybutton.
But then there are sub-genres of things. Those who have experienced miscarriages, the loss of a child or infertility. Those who come from “traditional” homes, single parent homes or same sex parent homes. Often when faced with those who know a life so much different than ours we are left staring at each other from opposite corners, or struggling to find common ground. Other times common ground is irrelevant because that whole “we’re all human” thing takes over.
But what about the times when we’re staring down those who have more in common that we’re used to? Sometimes our fight reflex comes out. Sometimes our trials and difficulties are what define us and we get uncomfortable in the presence of others who are going through similar difficulties. I know I have a hard time seeing other couples who deal with infertility so eloquently, or on the other hand couples who are just starting down the scary and uncertain road who avoid me, knowing that they may one day be where I am. A two thousand dollar shot in the butt with nothing to show for it but crazy.
I had my heart broken nine years ago. Smashed, destroyed and left for dead. I cannot say I have had my heart broken a thousand times because it only happened once, and once was all it took. Maybe if it had never happened I could be one of those who could say I had my heart broken more than once, never knowing what a true broken heart was.
Cody bears the scars of a broken heart too. While it’s not my story to tell, he was hurt. And hurt badly.
While we both struggle when we talk about those who broke us before we found each other, I have a feeling we both nurse the wounds of our broken hearts privately more often than we’d like to admit. I wish it had never happened to me. Cody swears he’s healed. I’m mad at the girl who hurt Cody. I’m mad that I’ll never know what he was like before her. That she left a mark on him that affects him and our relationship to this day.
I’m also mad at the boy who broke my heart. I’m mad that I have to know what that pain feels like and constantly live in fear of feeling it again.
I know our most personal struggles can bring us closer together with those who have gone down the same path. Yet at the same time they can put us against one another.
We are put into these little “groups” by default.
The haves and the have nots.
How would my life be different if I had never been hurt? Would I love Cody any less? Would we have even found each other?
If you could go back to the one moment thus far that defined you (or hurt you) the most…would you undo it?