While working on a construction site recently, I entered a room with a broken window. Standing back to view the entire panel, I could still see the landscape beyond, even though there were a few spots that were obstructed. The pane of safety glass was held together by design, creating a web of cracks extending from corner to corner. The light from outside was shining through the shattered pieces, and I could see colorful fall leaves in the refracted light. It was certainly not the first time I’ve seen broken safety glass, but I just stood there for a minute and took in the strangely beautiful pattern.
Looking out that window, I had a profound realization that my brain feels like shattered glass. From the inside, I feel the sharpness of the individual shards, while the world sees the whole picture, with the light filtering through the edges, casting tiny rainbows all around. There’s an invisible force holding it together, like safety glass refusing to fall to the ground. The years of repeated surgeries, shunt malfunctions, and constant pressure fluctuations have left cracked and blurry spots in how I function, rest, heal, and see my battle. But even though my brain is very broken, it’s also fascinating. It’s a prism that is continuously changing, and my life is shaped by how I allow this challenge to reflect my resolve.
In relentless pursuit,
For Lauren - Love you…. Stay in the arena. xx
We may shine, we may shatter,
We may be picking up the pieces here on after,
We are fragile, we are human,
We are shaped by the light we let through us,
We break fast, cause we are glass.
(Glass, Thompson Square)
My name is Amy but friends and family call me Am. I am a lover of dogs, good whiskey, and strength training. I'm a brain surgery survivor (x31), a fiddle player, a construction designer, and a boxing enthusiast. I have six real siblings, and five fake brothers. I love deeply, and consider my close friends to be family.