In the last post, we discussed “broken homes”. Or at least my (maybe) weird way of defining a broken home. And in that best-piece-of-writing-since-Shakespeare, I touched briefly on why this site is called “The Last Broken Home” at all – that when you improve yourself, and overcome your personal baggage (your personal broken home), you help make your home the last broken home.
Because the messed up thing about broken homes, is that they’re not an isolated thing. They’re not something that affects just the people involved and no one else.
No. Broken homes are cyclical. They spread. They beget more broken homes, and more broken homes. Until someone breaks that cycle.
Our broken homes come essentially from the fact that we never properly learn how to live and deal with ourselves and this world.
We live on autopilot set towards “sad”.
We’re taught literature rather than self-esteem. Physics rather than trust in oneself. We’re taught obedience rather than independence, and fear of the world’s dangers rather than a willingness to try, and fail, and learn. We’re taught to live and do and sacrifice for others, rather than to give priority to the only life we must actually live with and endure…our own.
Perfection, not improvement. Self-lessness, rather than Self-ishness.
And because we’re never taught the right way to live, we live our lives the normal way – kinda messed up, kinda angry, kinda secretly or very depressed.
We live as less than our best selves.
And it’s all because we’re raised in homes which in some way taught such lives, in a society which in some way encouraged such lives, by friends, and family, and teachers who live such lives.
A single person living in their own misery hurts no one but him or her Self. But we rarely live in solitude.
I’m almost positive, for instance, that you aren’t reading this page from some secluded mountaintop in Siberia. Or atop some dune in the Sahara. Cause the WIFI out there sucks.
We all live amongst others. We all have family, friends, people we every day interact with or otherwise let into our lives and vice versa.
We live lives that affect others. And perhaps worse yet, most live lives that create others.
87% of women birth a kid. 81% of dudes father one.
And when someone raises a kid, they create a life for him not all too different from their own – a home not unlike the one they once called home.
Because everything that is them – the income they have, the education they have, the hopefulness, the temperament, the faith, the ability to see and do good in this world – creates the world in which their little boy or girl will create theirs.
Their view of the world is their child’s first view of the world. And how they speak to them, and discipline them, and do to them, and teach them will have a tremendous effect on what they will and do become.
And so, when you yourself live as less than your best Self, what hope is there that your child will one day be theirs?
What hope is there that where you see scarcity and hopelessness, they will see its opposite?
What hope is there that though you never became an awesome, confident, loving person, they themselves will; that though you never loved your Self, they will love theirs?
The easy answer is the one you think now. The realistic answer is “not much”.
Because the life you live is the life you know. And the life you know is the life you pass on.
Until someone breaks that cycle. Until someone says: “Fuck this. I’m going to be better.”
And that’s why we’re here – to be better, and become better. To become that person we were all along meant to become.
We’re here to break the cycle.