Isn’t it strange how often we assume something is irreparably broken?
We don’t even give it a chance: we just label it useless.
Then we get to work seeking out a new version, so unwaveringly certain that the new will, without a doubt, fill the void the old left.
So savage in our ability to carelessly throw something in the trash, and so oblivious to the addiction underlying the excitement we feel about accumulating a newer, shinier, seemingly better version.
We do this with things, opportunities and people.
And we do it with ourselves.
We give up too easily – and work too hard at the wrong things. We cultivate our addictions and add to our busy-work scheduling – obsessively distracting ourselves from the work we need to do to heal.
So scared of what the work might uncover, that we recklessly throw the idea of doing it away:
“This is how life is.”
“I’m too old to change now.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
Stop giving up and start working harder at fixing things. And stop being so damn eager to throw it all away.
Because no one is ever so broken that they belong in a landfill.