THE HEART THAT BROKE
I took my broken heart and turned it into wings
Emotional trauma is not always visible. Unlike the obvious expressions of pain, many wounds of the soul remain unseen and operate beneath the surface. People may continue living their lives as usual—working, socializing, traveling, and laughing. In other words, they may appear functional, at least on the surface. And yet, they may carry within them a fracture that has not yet found a way to be released.
The ability to recognize this inner crack and integrate it into our personal reality is a key element of therapeutic maturation. There is no need to forget it or reject it. What matters is to understand it—and, in time, to accept it.
We could think of it as a cherished ceramic object that fell and broke. Instead of throwing it away, we pick it up, carefully piece it back together, and often give it a new form—more personal, perhaps even more beautiful than before. In some traditions, such as the Japanese art of kintsugi, the cracks are filled with gold so they remain visible, not hidden. This is not repair—it is the honoring of the object’s story. And every time you look at it, you see not only the damage, but also the care it took to restore it.
To “turn the wound into wings” is a metaphor for our ability to create a new chapter in life from the very place where we were most deeply hurt. In psychotherapy, this is connected to the concept of transformation: when pain does not remain trapped in the past, but becomes a catalyst for reflection, creativity, sensitivity, and personal understanding.
A person who continues forward without denying their past—and without turning into a vessel of revenge or cynicism—develops a form of resilience. This resilience does not seek validation; it is expressed in the quality of the relationship with oneself and with others. It is not a momentary decision, but a stance cultivated over time, reflecting the deep processing of emotional trauma.
Reintegrating the wound as part of personal growth does not erase the difficulty of the experience, but it lightens its weight. And it allows a person to see themselves not as a victim of the past, but as an active participant in caring for and building a more stable inner world.
