Your Mess Is Mine
"Bring me to your house
Tell me, “Sorry for the mess”
Hey, I don’t mind
You’re talking in your sleep
Out of time
Well you still make sense to me
Your mess is mine"
~ Vance Joy
Some days there is only mess. Days when our hearts rip open and there is tissue and muscle and membrane everywhere and all our brokenness comes undone and we bleed out onto the ground.
Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess.
There’s nothing pretty about our hearts as they bleed, about our humanity as we suffer. There’s nothing pretty about rejection, brokenness, abandonment, misunderstanding, cruelness, sadness, pain, hate. There’s nothing pretty about the way we are sliced open by ourselves, by others, by trauma, abuse, memories, nightmares, triggers, words.
Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess.
We are so ashamed of our mess. Ashamed of our humanity, of our ugliness. We’ve been told not to cry, to quiet down, to not show our feelings, to not make a scene.
We’ve been told to not make a mess.
Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess.
But to be human is to be messy. To feel, to love, to hate, to hurt, to cry, to grieve, is all messy. And the worst thing we can do is make others feel ashamed of their mess, to make them feel wrong in their humanity, as though they need to hide it, need to clean up their mess before anyone sees it.
The most beautiful gift we can give one another is to step into their messiest place and say, “Hey, I don’t mind.” To look around at the mess, the chaos, the blood all over the ground, and make sense of them when they can no longer make sense of themselves.
To hear them say it:
Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess. Sorry for the mess.
And to love them enough to say, “Your mess is mine.”
ABOUT
Warrior. Dreamer. Creator. Writer. Fighter for all that is beautiful and good. Advocate for the underdog. Truth-teller. Empath. Yogi. Passionate soul. Lover of land and ocean. Coffee drinker. Gentle spirit. Wild heart. Word Alchemist.
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