Dear heart on a healing journey,
I still remember the sound it made when it hit the floor. It was sharp. Sudden. Final.
One of my favourite mugs, a simple white cup with a faded design, had slipped from my hand and shattered on the tile. For a few moments, I just stood there, staring at the pieces scattered around me. Something about it felt symbolic. Strange how something so small could stir so much inside.
This wasn’t just any mug. It had been with me through many quiet moments. Mornings when I studied with tired eyes and a heavy heart. Lonely afternoons after moving to a new country, where everything felt unfamiliar. Nights when I sat in silence, wondering who I was becoming and if I’d ever feel like I belonged.
That cup had held more than tea. It had held parts of my journey. My fears. My dreams. My doubts.
And now it was broken.
My first instinct was to throw it away. It was damaged. Useless. Irreparable.
But something in me paused.
Instead of discarding it, I gently gathered the broken pieces. A few days later, I remembered a practice from Japanese culture called kintsugi. It is the art of repairing broken pottery with gold, not to hide the cracks but to emphasize them. To make the brokenness part of the beauty. A visible reminder of strength and healing.
I decided to try it.
When I held the mug again, now traced with golden seams, something shifted inside me. It was still the same cup, but somehow it felt more precious. Not because it had never broken, but because it had.
What about you?
What is your cracked cup?
Maybe it’s the relationship that ended without closure. The anxiety that creeps in when no one is watching. The grief you carry but don’t speak of. The parts of yourself you’ve been taught to hide.
In therapy, we don’t rush to glue you back together. We don’t cover up the cracks and pretend they aren’t there. We sit with them. We make space for the pain and the questions. We explore the story behind the shattering.
And slowly, with time, care, and trust, we begin to fill the cracks. Not with gold, but with something just as sacred. With compassion. With clarity. With courage. With self-respect.
Not to erase your past, but to honour it. To let it shape you without defining you. To help you see yourself not as broken, but as becoming.
You are not too damaged. You are not too far gone. You are not too late.
You are in the process of becoming someone who can hold both the pain and the beauty. Someone who knows their strength, not despite what happened, but because of it.
There is meaning in what broke. There is wisdom in your wounds. There is beauty in what you are becoming.
If no one has told you this recently, let me say it now.
You are allowed to begin again.
And when you’re ready, I’m here to walk with you.
Yours in healing,
