Beauty and broken things

People have asked me many times before why I love Baltimore so much. My answer has always been the same: because it's broken.

I think this is a difficult thing for many people to understand, why I would feel the way I feel. We are, after all, a society that admires, perhaps above all else, "winners," and encourages people to relentlessly pursue betterment and achievement -- the end goal of our pursuits being some lofty perfection we can't even completely conceive of, let alone achieve. But we try and keep on trying, always looking up to those deemed brightest and best, to individuals who exude confidence and present a face of at least surface-level flawlessness. We appreciate and admire the illusion, if nothing else.

But I've always been someone who was rubbed the wrong way by the champions, irritated by the conquering heroes, visibly annoyed by the class presidents, valedictorians, and most likely to succeed-ers of the world. My people have always been the outcasts and least-likely-to underdogs, the burnouts huddled together behind the bleachers, the dismissed and unpopular weirdos and nerds. And so, regardless of whatever successes I've had in my life, I've never been able to shake feeling like someone who doesn't quite belong or fit in, a person whose triumphs somehow always seem like anomalous flukes, and who, if it came down to it, would still be picked last for the team.

This is why I hate the New York Yankees, incidentally.

Point being, I strongly identify with people and things that are flawed, cast-out, wounded, and Baltimore is a place that is, in a way, perfect in its imperfection. It is beautiful to me, that brokenness. To my mind, it is virtually impossible to love perfection -- at least for me it is. What makes things and people lovable, what makes them resonate and what elicits a depth of empathetic feeling, are their flaws and wounds and weaknesses. The profound sadness each and every person carries tucked under their arm everyday, even as they present a gleaming, bleached-white, aspiring-to-perfection smile to the world. That is humanity I can love.

. . . . .

On Thanksgiving Jamie came over and we spent the day together, cooking with M.

It was strangely normal. At moments it felt downright good. Right. Surprisingly, I only cried once, when I clumsily shattered one of two beautiful hand-etched art glasses Jamie bought me ages ago for an occasion which now escapes me. It seemed imbued with a sad sort of symbolism. When I broke down, Jamie hugged me and said, "It's just a glass." But then he knows how I am. I can't stop seeing the layers in things, feeling around for meaning, significance -- whether it's there or not.

Anyway, I guess the thing I really want to say here is that everything is still, and I imagine for a long time will continue to be, complicated, but that complexity is beautiful. Jamie and I struggle, individually and together, but that struggle is honest and real and truthful. And though it is indeed painful at times and more than a little rough around the edges, for all its brokenness I think I love our family more now than I did before Jamie and I split, odd as that may sound. I think this is because we've stopped trying to be something we aren't. We are now fully and honestly ourselves, unmasked and unvarnished: flawed people, who make mistakes, but who love one another and do everything possible to be good to each other, to take care of each other. We stopped trying to be perfect, trying to conform to someone else's idea of what a family should be that didn't fit the reality of who and what we are.

Sometimes it turns out that what you thought you wanted really wasn't the right thing for you, however much you hoped it would be. Sometimes facing the hardest, most painful truths is the only possible path to happiness. Sometimes finding real peace and contentment means breaking with -- not maintaining -- the status quo.

And sometimes imperfection is absolutely and undeniably perfect.

Comments

[Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah]

That was truly beautiful.

(and also why I hate the Yankees. Well, that and Derek Jeter.)

[Adam P. Knave]

"We stopped trying to be perfect, trying to conform to someone else's idea of what a family should be that didn't fit the reality of who and what we are."

That's beautiful, right there. Yhat's the secret to so many things, I think, just hit right on the head.

[David]

A beautifully written, brave and thoroughly honest post. Seeing and appreciating what we have and where we are honestly, flaws and all, can indeed by re-affirming. I hope your 2010 (and mine) ends up being far better than our respective 2009's were.

[joy]

This is one of those posts that's hard to comment on, because it leaves you slightly stunned. Beautiful. Broken can be very beautiful. Didn't someone write once, 'it's ok, it's alright. The beauty's in the breakdown.' Yeah.

[CatrinkaS]

Amen, amen: to the flaws, to the strength in vices, to beauty in thrift stores, shards of glass softened by sand and salt, and magic between cobblestones.

I am honored to recognize myself among your 'people.'

Love.

[Boy Crazy (@claritychaos)]

In reading your story, I've mentioned similarities to my sister before. The last two paragraphs of this post hit it exactly right on. Exactly.

[Hilary]

Except for the nonsense about the Yankees, this post is just spot-on. :) I definitely understand and share the same feeling about the beauty in the abandoned, shaggy, rusted and unappreciated. Lovely.

[Kellee]

That was truly lovely. And I agree with you, I love the flaws and "imperfections".

I find that is what I focus on with my photography a lot of the time... the tiny flaw in something beautiful, that makes it more than beautiful... makes it interesting.
My last post, in fact, featured a photo of a flaw. A "shaped" bush, and the gardner missed a leaf, and it was winding out of the side, totally ruining the whole "perfect" effect. But that leaf? It was gorgeous.
There has been more than one occasion where I've met someone and the first thing I"ve asked them is, "SO.. tell me something nerdy about yourself." Those are my people.

[Erica]

Ah, dammit. You made me cry again. So succinctly put; thank you for finding the words that I can't always come up with. The rough edges are more interesting than the shiny ones, always.

[Christine]

Gorgeous. And I'm glad you only cried once, because the weeper that I am is a little misty over here on your behalf.

I like my neighborhood in Philadelphia for much of the reasons why you like Baltimore. That, and I can walk around my block and have delicious crepes. mmmmmmmmmmmm.

[TwoBusy]

"Sometimes facing the hardest, most painful truths is the only possible path to happiness."

I think you've found a mantra.

(Beautifully done, btw.)

[kdiddy]

I love you guys, warts and all. ;-)

[KBO]

One of my fave posts of yours.

[Jennie]

This post is amazing. Despite all the pain, being able to exhale and be exactly who you are must be the most peaceful feeling in the world.

[jodifur]

This post is so beautiful and so much what I needed to read. I recently had to admit I made a mistake about something and it was hurting my kid and fix it. And it took a lot and it is going to take a lot to make it right.

Sometimes being you is hard. But is it always the right thing to do.

[JenniferG]

Such a wonderful post. Beautiful. I don't really know what else to say except that you are an exceptional writer.

[Kim]

"Sometimes it turns out that what you thought you wanted really wasn't the right thing for you, however much you hoped it would be. Sometimes facing the hardest, most painful truths is the only possible path to happiness. Sometimes finding real peace and contentment means breaking with -- not maintaining -- the status quo.

And sometimes imperfection is absolutely and undeniably perfect."

This made me cry. I am standing on that precipice ~ ready to take the plunge and break the status quo.

Your writing moves me...thank you.

[Redd]

So beautifully written.
I think it is so fabulous that you and Jamie are still close enough that events like this are able to happen. So many children with seperated parents have to deal with animosity (no,I can't spell) and seeing this post makes me so happy.

[Out-Numbered]

I just hugged my computer. Nice post buddy. Focus on your beautiful kid...

[marie]

It's awesome you guys got to that place.. and so quickly (relatively) too. Wish I could say the same about my relationship!