I tell my clients that they are not broken.
They are not damaged goods.
They don’t need fixing because they are amazing and whole as they are.
But what I’ve come to learn is that is only part of their broken identity.
Underneath the broken story is actually worse. More painful.
The belief that they are unlovable.
And dare I say
I’ve felt that way too.
Unworthy.
Of Love.
The most sacred gift.
Broken actually feels easier to say.
The broken pieces are shards of glass, protection from the deeper wound.
Wounds cannot be fixed. But they can be healed.
Slowly.
Often met with resistance. Fear. Sadness.
Possible.
As Rumi said “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”
And where light is shined, beauty if found.
Love, revealed.
