Life hits hard. Sometimes it feels like you’ve been shattered into a thousand tiny, jagged pieces that don’t quite fit back together the way they used to. We spend so much energy trying to hide the cracks, glue the edges, and pretend the vessel is still whole. But what if the cracks are actually where the light gets in? Honestly, finding beauty in my brokenness isn’t some fluffy, toxic-positivity catchphrase. It’s a gritty, difficult, and ultimately transformative way of looking at the human experience.
Think about the Japanese art of Kintsugi. It’s been around for centuries. When a piece of pottery breaks, they don't throw it away or try to use invisible glue. Instead, they repair the seams with gold, silver, or platinum. The repair is intentional. It’s loud. It says, "This piece is more valuable now because it has a history." That’s the vibe we’re going for here.
The Myth of the "Fixed" Life
We’re obsessed with being "fixed." You see it all over social media—the curated feeds, the 5-step plans to heal your trauma, the idea that once you do enough yoga or therapy, you'll finally be a "whole" person again. It’s exhausting. It’s also kinda fake.
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Dr. Brené Brown, a researcher who has spent decades studying vulnerability and shame, talks extensively about the "perfectionism" trap. In her book The Gifts of Imperfection, she notes that perfectionism is not the same thing as striving for excellence. It’s a shield. We use it to protect ourselves from being seen. But when we hide our broken parts, we also hide our capacity for connection. You can't truly bond with someone who has no flaws because there’s no hook for your own humanity to grab onto.
Brokenness isn't a bug in the system. It's the system.
Loss, heartbreak, failure, and illness are the common denominators of being alive. If you’re breathing, you’ve probably got some scars. Embracing beauty in my brokenness means stopping the war against your own history. It means looking at the scar tissue and realizing it’s actually tougher than the skin it replaced.
Why We Struggle to See the Gold
It’s hard to see the gold when you’re still in the middle of the mess. When you’re dealing with a massive life shift—maybe a divorce, a career collapse, or a health crisis—the "beauty" part feels like a slap in the face.
Psychologists often refer to something called Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG). This isn’t just "bouncing back" to where you were before. It’s actually developing new psychological resources because of the struggle. Researchers Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun, who coined the term in the 1990s, found that people who experience deep hardship often report a greater appreciation for life, more intimate relationships, and an increased sense of personal strength.
But here’s the kicker: you can’t skip the "broken" part to get to the "growth" part.
The messy reality of healing
Healing isn't linear. It’s a scribble. Some days you feel like a Kintsugi masterpiece, and other days you feel like a pile of ceramic dust on the floor. That’s okay. The beauty in my brokenness doesn't require you to be "over it." It just requires you to stop apologizing for it.
- Stop comparing your "behind the scenes" to everyone else's highlight reel.
- Acknowledge that some things don't get "fixed," they just get integrated into who you are now.
- Give yourself permission to be a work in progress. Forever.
Radical Acceptance and the Art of Being Real
There’s a concept in Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) called Radical Acceptance. It was developed by Marsha Linehan, and it’s basically the practice of accepting reality as it is, without judgment or attempts to fight it.
When I talk about beauty in my brokenness, I’m talking about radical acceptance. It’s saying, "Yes, this happened. Yes, it hurt. Yes, I am changed."
When you stop fighting the reality of your past, you free up a massive amount of emotional energy. You can use that energy to build something new. You start to notice that your "cracks" make you more empathetic. You’re better at listening. You’re less likely to judge others for their messes because you know exactly what the bottom of the pit looks like.
Honestly, the most interesting people are the ones who have been through the fire and didn't come out smelling like smoke—they came out smelling like resilience.
The Practical Side: How to Actually Find the Beauty
How do you do this without sounding like a greeting card? It starts with small, internal shifts.
First, change the narrative. Instead of "I am broken," try "I am a person who has survived breaking." The distinction is huge. One is an identity of deficit; the other is an identity of survival and capacity.
Second, find your "gold." In Kintsugi, the gold is the substance that fills the gaps. In life, your "gold" might be the new boundaries you’ve learned to set. It might be the art you started creating when you had nothing else to do. It might be the community of people who showed up for you when things got dark.
Third, share the story. There is a specific kind of power in telling the truth about your struggles. When you speak about your brokenness, you give other people permission to be imperfect too. You become a beacon.
Tangible steps to integrate your history:
- Journal the "Then vs. Now." Don't just focus on what you lost. Focus on what you know now that you didn't know then. Wisdom is the most expensive thing you'll ever own, and you usually pay for it with pain.
- Audit your environment. Are you surrounded by people who demand you be "perfect"? If so, that's not a safe place to heal. Find the ones who aren't afraid of the cracks.
- Physicalize the process. Sometimes, literal movement—like hiking, painting, or even just rearranging your living space—helps your brain process the "rearrangement" of your soul.
Redefining Strength as Vulnerability
We often think of strength as being unbreakable. Like a diamond. But diamonds are cold and hard.
True human strength is more like a tree. A tree that has been battered by storms has deeper roots and more flexible branches. It’s scarred, maybe a little lopsided, but it’s still standing. And it provides better shade.
The beauty in my brokenness is the shade I can provide for others.
If you’re currently in a season where you feel more "broken" than "beautiful," hang in there. The gold is being mixed right now. You aren't ruined; you’re being refined. You aren't less than you were; you’re becoming more complex, more nuanced, and infinitely more valuable.
Actionable insights for moving forward:
- Identify one "scar" (emotional or situational) that you’ve been trying to hide. Ask yourself: what has this taught me about my own resilience?
- Practice "Kintsugi Thinking" for a week. When something goes wrong—even something small like a missed deadline or a social awkwardness—look for the "gold" repair instead of the "broken" failure.
- Engage with art or literature that centers on the theme of imperfection. Read Mary Oliver, listen to Leonard Cohen’s "Anthem" (the song where the famous "cracks" lyric comes from), or look at the photography of Sally Mann.
- Document the growth. Keep a list of things you can handle now that would have broken you five years ago. This is your evidence of beauty.
- Seek professional support if the "brokenness" feels like it's preventing you from functioning. There is no shame in having an expert help you mix the lacquer for your repairs. Finding a therapist who specializes in trauma-informed care or PTG can provide the scaffolding you need while you're rebuilding.
The goal isn't to reach a state where you are "whole" and never break again. The goal is to become someone who knows how to repair themselves with gold every single time. That is where the real beauty lives. It’s in the seams. It’s in the survival. It’s in the quiet, stubborn refusal to stay shattered.