Sometimes I’m envious of folks hobbling along in those plastic boots designed to support an injured leg or ankle and aid healing.
Not because of the injury–I’m thankful I’ve never broken a bone-but because it’s an outward warning to anyone who might otherwise be impatient or insensitive that they just can’t go any faster.
I think there ought to be a t-shirt, pin or banner that gives the same kind of warning for those of us walking around with broken hearts and broken lives.
But there isn’t.
Read the rest here: Broken Legs, Broken Hearts, Broken Lives


I love the idea of the shirt! I just found this space.
It all applies to me too, except the heart that has been lost has been my own. Hopefully not permanently, though it feels like it. My own childhood neglect & abuse (discovered it wasn’t “normal” in therapy), 28years of an emotionally abusive marriage, still married but caring for him as he declines from a progressively disabling disease. All the same questions, How Can I Breathe, Where was HE, … and Yes, the Nights are the Worst. In two weeks both of our sons will have moved out this year. Empty nest.
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