My Broken Eggs

I read somewhere, no doubt the internet, that an egg broken from the outside dies, but an egg broken from the inside comes to life. I can relate to that on so many levels. Every time someone tried to fix me or break me, I died. Obviously not literally, but can you imagine how many times I had to be reborn?

There have been so many of those occasions. Parents, who did not know the impact they would have. Exes who knew the exact impact that they would have. And others who knew but didn’t care about the impact. I can remember so many times when my mother broke my spirit; not to hurt me because she truly believed that she was protecting and teaching me. I did not yet understand the notion that you could only teach and share from the knowledge that you have. And even in her lack of knowledge of the damage left in her wake, she was so much smarter than me and I really did learn something from every action she took. Maybe not at the time she was teaching it, but my subconscious held the information until I could process it.

As a parent, I know that I have done my share of cracking my kids’ eggs. I knew the ramifications of my actions but had not yet learned how to not do it or repair the damage; and once done, it can't be undone. The most you can hope for is that you will do better next time. I did eventually learn to sandwich my criticism between two slices of praise – most of the time.

As a grandmother (to be furthermore referred to as GiGi), I work diligently to avoid breaking eggs; trying to offer options for a different outcome next time and telling them how awesome they are with every thing that they do right, so that that they don't go through their lives feeling that they were a disappointment to anyone. I also share a moment from my own book of errors (or their parents' book) just to let them know that it'll be ok.

Talking about my broken eggs may seem like a bad thing or a place of self-pity, not at all. What I learned is that it’s ok to go back into my shell. My shell offers time to grow and a safe place in which to do it. In fact, taking a page from the chicken hatching process, you may find me incubating for about 21 days. In my controlled environment, where the atmosphere and temperature are perfect, I can redevelop and perfect what I thought was lost. I gained a stronger sense of who I am and what I could do on my own. And while I used to look back on the events of my life that made me believe I’d never ‘get it’, I now understand that those cracked and broken eggs allowed me to serve up better breakfast omelets; and isn’t breakfast the most important meal of the day?

Don’t be afraid to break a few eggs, you're resilient like that.