I’ve had my heart broken. Myriad times. So, so many times. Because of all different sorts of things. Every time – a different effect. Hearts don’t break the same twice. But the chips in them, the breaks, the gaps, they grow. Shatter. Fuse together, and break again.
Everyone knows heartache. You can’t be human and not know heartbreak. It’s a part of the package. We’re thinkers as much as we are feelers. All of that stuff is connected. It’s the floor of our imagination. It’s whom and how we are, as humans. It’s what makes us what we are
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But even though we all know this, even though we’re perfectly aware that heartbreak is a regular part of life – an inextricable link to the chain – we learn to hide our hearts. From the world, from each other.
Actually, we do everything that we fucking can do shield our hearts from the world.
To ensure that our hearts are forever protected by fully prepared armies, ready for combat.
We erect walls. Moats. We bring in crocodiles and sharks to fill those moats. We build trapdoors and highly concealed exits, just in case we need to flea. We boil thick oil, and we grip at barrels of this boiled oil, while we stand at the high up barricades, ready and willing to let it pour – sizzle – scald – burn and hurt.
We make Trojan horses out of shiny cloths and sturdy woods, then we create makeshift hearts, place those pho-hearts, ticking time bombs, TNT, in the horse’s navel. Then we stand back and watch the destruction explode from afar. Safe. Out of danger!
Our real hearts, hidden behind closed doors.
For anyone who’s has experienced heartbreak (which everyone definitely has!) you’ll understand why people do this. Why people confine their hearts to the shadows, why such strange, isolated behaviour has become the norm.
It’s because heartbreak hurts. Physically. Emotionally. Intellectually.
Broken hearts hurt. So much. So bad. And for periods of time that extend far beyond what many people can endure.
Heartache, heartbreak leads us to the darkest places known to humankind. It draws on our insecurities and our worries. It affirms the belief that we’re worthless. Useless. Unlovable. It tells us, through its nefarious whispers that are inaudible to all the other species, that we’re good for nothing. That we deserve the pain. That we’re feeling is somehow our fault, because we’re not good enough, failures – because we did something wrong.
No sane person wants to feel heartbreak. And so, some say, quite understandably, that it’s better to shy away. That it’s a reasonable method of self-protection. Self-preservation.
Some say that it’s better to lock your heart up and throw away the key to shield yourself from the hurt, the pain, the unrelenting throbbing.
But is this option really the best one?
Is not taking a chance on your heart, not letting it breathe in the open really the best way to live?
Or will it, ultimately, cause you only more pain?
I think, contrary to common belief, that the latter is true.
I think that the more we do to protect ourselves, the more walls we erect, the more moats we draw, the more crocodiles and sharks and trap doors and tar – the more Trojan horses we make to hide behind – the higher the chances that these shields will turn on us. Trap us in ourselves. And kill us in our sleep.
Life is a magical thing. It is always still, but forever changing. Without direction, it self-directs. It folds and turns and spins and falls. It lives, it grows, it dies. And then it does it all again. Anew. Again and again. The same, but not – different.
Life doesn’t stop. Whether we like it or not, it’ll keep on turning. When we try to restrict this process of life flowing and spiralling, when we try to confine life to the shadows, to the fringes, out of sight – we restrict its motion. We run against nature. Our nature. We live contrary to life.
For the human, the heart is the centre of what life is. It is what gives us life. It pumps blood through our bodies, all the way up to our brains. Without this relatively superfluous little organ, an organ made of muscle, we wouldn’t be. We’d be nothing. Dead.
Brains are cool, but without our hearts, brains are just grey mush.
So when we exile this poor little fella out of our lives, when we tell him to be quiet, that he needs to stop singing, that he needs to keep calm and keep his thoughts to himself, quiet – we die on the inside.
We wither and fray. Slowly, but surely. We tumble farther and farther into the darkness, this figurative black, a space in which no oxygen may enter – a sea in which no life can float. In this way, we die inside – lonely, isolated – apart from the whole.
The truth is, my weird friends, that our hearts, they must shine. If you want to live, live well, beautifully – hiding your heart is not an option.
We’ve got to keep on facing the world. Again and again. We’ve got to stand up to the heartbreak like we do all other failures. These aches and pains. These perceived shortcomings.
We’ve got to face our skeletons, our undusted souls, and let them breathe. We’ve got to give them space to be, and take our chances. Not in the shadows, but in the light.
Because, that’s the most beautiful thing: Our hearts will break, but they will always put themselves back together again.
Don’t hide your heart. It might break apart. But it’ll come back. Fresh. Stronger. Deeper. Only ever with more to give.
Humans-are-weird.
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