Often as I process my own story I think about how people react to some of the “sadder” things that I have experienced. One friend described this as the “puppy dog look.” It’s that look of pity as if they are shouting “Oh, you poor thing.” Or I hear, “You’ve done great things given the kind of setbacks you’ve had.” Although people are trying to nice or caring it often comes across as though little was really expected of me and evaluates my achievements only through the lens of past pains. People tend to see difficult experiences as something that must be overcome, rather than something that has ultimately shaped me into who I am today and made me stronger as a result. I hate pity. I mean really hate it. I’m okay with empathy, even sympathy but not pity. I wrote this poem during a time when I was really beginning to discuss my story and was just being totally bombarded with the “puppy dog look.” I was so frustrated with how the way people looked at me changed after they heard my story. I was still the same person, but they looked at me as an object of pity. I pray I never do that to anyone. Discussion and thoughts welcome. How do you feel about pity?

Broken
Don’t treat me like I’m broken,
An object to be pitied.
You see the cracks, the wounds,
But I am so much more.
My hands though scarred and shaking,
Still serve joyfully.
My guilt and pain are evident,
My shame plain to see.
But they do not define me.
I am more than my scars.
They will heal with time.
Your love and care surround me,
Your listening ear my strongest comfort.
I need your friendship, your patience,
As I wrestle with my past.
But don’t treat me like I’m broken,
I’m afraid I will not last.
I cling to hope,
A plan, a purpose.
I know I am not alone.
My life, though streaked with pain,
Is overwhelmed by grace.
I’m scarred, shaken, beaten,
But I am free.
I am me.
-R. Bryan