• Lauren Morris

Still Shattered




My life shattered overnight and everything changed. Now nearly a year later, the only thing that remains is that I am still broken.


I know I've come a long way from that hospital bed it doesn't mean I'm okay with where I'm at today. A song came through my playlist and I thought oh that would be an amazing intro for a show then I remembered there are no shows. I'll never step onto the stage again as the owner of a tiny but mighty punk theater in fact, given my recovery, I don't think I'll ever step on stage again. Hell, I don't even know if I could physically handle being an audience member at this point.


I've slowly been trying to collect those shattered pieces. Each time I pick one up I discover these pieces were never me. Small slivers here and there are me but because of the harm of others I never even had a chance to find out what could have been. Instead, I am left with more questions. More grief.


I can't seem to get a handle on it. When I try to share it I'm dismissed or misunderstood. I attempt to let it stay with me only to realize I'm nowhere near the depths of the true pain and loss that lies ahead. In fact, it's cruel how much I'm trying to adapt, grow, rediscover only to find I've made little if any meaningful change.


There doesn't seem to be room for me in this new version of my life. Instead, obligations and duties to others take precedent. There used to be more of a balance. Now every morning when I wake up and I push aside the loud ringing from within my own head and the moments of dizziness that follow, I will myself to get through another day. Maybe this is the day I finally am at peace with what has happened. Maybe this is the day I let go of the shame. Maybe this is the day I'm okay just the role of mom. Maybe this is the day I finally have the courage to walk away. Maybe this is the day I can finally fall apart without the clock ticking. Maybe this is the day I can name the harm without immediately defending the decisions of those who inflicted the pain.


The constant in my life is that maybes don't happen. So I'm left with these shattered pieces, fragmented memories, and a treacherous path with no guide and very little, if any, hope. Maybe next year things won't be so broken.


© 2023 by Lauren Morris