I’m Not Broken. I Just Have More Miles Than The Owner’s Manual Expected.

I’ve noticed something.

Somewhere along the way, “broken” became everyone’s favorite word.

People introduce themselves with it now.

“I’m broken.”

“I’m healing.”

“I’m broken, but trying.”

I understand what they’re trying to say.

Life isn’t gentle. It takes people apart sometimes.

Jobs disappear. Marriages end. Parents die. Bodies wear out. Your own mind occasionally decides today’s a great day to pick a fight with you.

I’ve had my share.

But I’ve never liked calling myself broken.

Broken is what you call a coffee mug after it hits the kitchen floor.

Broken is a lawn mower that won’t start.

Broken is something you drag to the curb because fixing it costs more than replacing it.

People aren’t like that.

At least I don’t think we are.

We Grew Up Learning To Fix Things

Growing up Gen X, nobody handed us a guidebook for resilience.

We learned it because things quit working and nobody else was coming to fix them.

Bike chain fell off?
Figure it out.

VCR ate your tape?
Figure it out.

Sink clogged?
Figure it out.

Life wasn’t always fair, but it gave us something valuable.

It taught us to look for a solution before we looked for a label.

The Check Engine Light Has Been On For Years

Now I’m in my fifties.

My knees have opinions.

My back negotiates every morning before I get out of bed.

I make the same sound getting off the couch that my dad used to make.

I used to laugh at him.

Turns out…

He wasn’t being dramatic.

He was standing.

There are days when I feel every mile I’ve put on this body.

But here’s the thing.

• I’m still moving.
• I’m still laughing.
• I’m still paying bills.
• I’m still showing up.
• I’m still finding reasons to look forward to tomorrow.

That doesn’t feel broken to me.

It feels used.

There’s a difference.

Experience Doesn’t Leave You Looking New

I’ve come to trust people with a little wear on them.

The ones who’ve:

• Buried parents.
• Raised kids.
• Lost jobs.
• Started over.
• Made spectacularly dumb decisions and somehow lived long enough to laugh about them later.

Those people usually don’t panic when life changes direction.

They’ve seen enough to know storms end.

They know most disasters eventually become stories.

They know you survive more than you think you will.

Factory New Has Never Impressed Me

I don’t want to be factory new.

Give me the mechanic whose toolbox looks older than I am.

Give me the nurse who’s worked nights for twenty years.

Give me the electrician who walks into a room, squints once, and already knows what’s wrong.

Nobody hires those people because they’re flawless.

They hire them because they’ve seen things.

Experience leaves marks.

That’s the whole point.

The Things We Love Most Usually Show Their Age

Think about the things you’ve kept the longest.

• The old truck that still starts every morning.
• The cast iron skillet that’s cooked thousands of meals.
• The recliner with the worn arm everyone claims during football season.

None of those survived because they stayed perfect.

They survived because somebody kept taking care of them.

Maybe that’s us.

Still In Service

Maybe middle age isn’t the story of things falling apart.

Maybe it’s the story of finally learning what deserves maintenance.

You stop chasing every argument.

You stop trying to impress people who were never paying attention.

You become more protective of your peace.

More patient. More selective.

You waste less time pretending.

That’s not breaking down.

That’s learning.

So, How Are You?

No, I don’t think I’m broken.

Bent once or twice? Absolutely.

Scratched up? Without question.

Running with a few replacement parts? Probably.

But broken?

Not yet.

The engine still starts.

I’ve simply learned not to floor it over every pothole.