Humans logo

We're All a Little Broken Down

Some types of brokenness are just more visible than others.

By Camilla RichterPublished about a year ago 4 min read
Like
We're All a Little Broken Down
Photo by Jilbert Ebrahimi on Unsplash

I had an experience recently that turned my attention to an aspect of reality that I haven’t quite been able to shake. In fact, I think it won’t ever leave me. In fact, I hope it doesn’t.

Here’s what happened: I rear-ended someone on my drive to work.

This was my first auto accident (not counting the one with the deer) and I was mortified. It was my fault. In my early morning, coffee-deprived haze, my mind drifted to the day laid out ahead of me and I failed to see what was literally right ahead of me.

I slammed on my brakes, but it was too late. We collided with a sharp crunch!

I followed the car off the highway congested with hundreds of other commuters on their way to work, and parked behind them in a gas station parking lot. They didn’t get out. I was trying not to freak out.

I have a pretty severe fear of people being mad at me, and I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which this person wouldn’t be mad at me. Best case scenario, they would be in a fuming rage, demand recompense, and chew me out. Worst case scenario, I would get cussed out. Or maybe shot.

As it turned out, the driver’s response caught me completely unawares. The door opened and a girl stepped out. She was crying.

My heart immediately cringed so hard it physically hurt.

“I’m so sorry!” I began. “Are you okay?”

She gestured to her distraught, tear-streaked face. “I was like this before it happened. I’ve already had such a morning, and now this happens!”

“I’m so sorry!” I repeat. “It was totally my fault. The cars look like they’re both okay, I don’t see any damage. Are you okay?”

She drew a shaky breath and wiped tears from her face. “My mom came for a visit this weekend.”

I stared at her, trying to not look as confused as I felt.

“She’s an alcoholic.”

Over the next few minutes, she opened up to me about her mom, her alcoholism, and her unexpectedly extended visit.

“She was supposed to leave today, but she’s passed out on the couch and I have to go to work. I don’t know what to do!”

At this point, the tears came back in full force and, not knowing what else I could do, I asked if I could give her a hug. She nodded.

And that’s how, at 7:40am on a Monday morning, I came to be hugging a stranger in a gas station parking lot.

I cried the rest of the way to work. I kicked myself for not saying something different, for not offering to help, for not inviting her to reach out.

I cried for her hurt, for her mother’s hurt, and for their broken relationship.

But mostly, I cried because I saw, more clearly than ever before, that all of us are commuting down the freeway of our lives isolated, hurting, and a little bit broken.

Whether we recognize it or not, we’re all a little (or a lot) broken down.

Some of us have a beautiful exterior, shiny, polished, fresh coat of paint, but in reality, we’re falling apart – the upholstery is ripped, the A/C doesn’t work, the transmission is spotty, you name it, we’re really not okay. But as long as everyone passing us on the road thinks we’re okay, then we’re okay.

Some of us might not even recognize that there’s something wrong. The check engine light is on, the oil light is on, the brake system light is on, but we’ve covered them up with sticky notes that say, “Live, laugh, love,” “Do more of what makes you happy” and “Girl, wash your face.” There’s strange noises coming from underneath the hood, but we can’t hear it over the sound of our favorite tunes, radio station, podcast, anything to prevent an accidental moment of silence. It’s easy to mask the symptoms by performing self-care spa days every weekend or cutting out anything that makes us feel uncomfortable.

Some of us are quite literally falling apart, to the point where it’s evident to everyone around us.

Have you noticed how everyone slows down to look when there’s been a crash? Even if the crash site is contained and not affecting the flow of traffic, everyone slows way down until they pass, taking every possible moment to take in the scene. We can look for justification for the crash: “They were probably on their phones.” Or we thank the powers that be that we’re not that bad.

But the truth is, we’re all a little broken down. It’s just that their brokenness happens to be more visible than ours.

See, we go through life so focused on us that it’s easy to assume everyone else is just fine. After all, they look fine, don’t they? But what we can’t see is everything that’s going on under the hood or behind closed doors. We don’t see their mileage. We don’t see their empty tank running on fumes.

So the next time someone cuts you off in traffic, you can blare your horn and cuss them out. You can flip the bird and let that minor inconvenience affect the rest of your commute, or you can back off, take a breath, and recognize that whatever hurt you have, whatever stressors you’re under, they have their own.

We've all been hurt by someone. We've all made mistakes that have changed the course of our lives forever. We all have insecurities and fears that cripple and control us. We've all experienced loneliness, hate, pain, and darkness.

We’re all a little broken down.

So why can’t we all give a little more grace?

humanity
Like

About the Creator

Camilla Richter

I've used fiction as an escape ever since I developed an imagination, and now I'm sharing pieces of my world with you. I'm a wife, mom, and an awkward introvert who professes her undying love to baristas in the drive through.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.