...but happens when there is no balance and only bad things happen?
At that point I question perception.
Not saying that balance doesn't get radically get skewed... Nor that things don't become too much to handle, regardless of how balanced things may be... But I have never known life to be entirely that black & white, even if it sometimes feels that way.
One of my happiest & warmest memories is being held naked in strong arms, my hair being petted, heartbeat in my ear, stubble on my cheek, soft words with pretty compliments murmuring above me. I have rarely felt happier, or safer, in my life. It's a top 10 memory.
For every silver lining, a cloud? That was during a several month stint of being tortured. We were locked in a concrete slab room, covered in blood, and piss, and shit, and filth. Burned with fire and electricity. Teeth smashed. Fingers snapped. Drowned. Raped. Beaten. Cut on. Starved. Poisoned with rotten food. Blasted with sound. Cold, and wet, and miserable. Waiting to die. A very bad time was had by all, and hilarity did not ensue. But, for a little while, we weren't in cells alone. And, for a little while, I was held. Warm, and safe, and happy, and not alone. And nobody was screaming.
That was one of the worst times of my life. I don't talk about it much, but processing through shit right now, trying to get some order in the chaos. Somewhere in the top 10, too, probably. Couldn't protect anyone else, couldn't even protect myself. And even
there, if there were good moments? Sweet moments? Then I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if I believe everything is bad? I'm lying to myself. It's a cognitive distortion. My perception has taken a blow to the head. It happens from time to time. Because things can
always get worse, it's never as bad as it could be, and I'm blinded. Not being able to see the good? Means I can't use it... When it's usually all around me. If I could only allow myself to see it.
So when I think only bad things happen? Or I hate everything about myself. Or I always/never/everything anything... I question my perception. And I fight like hell to be able to see. Have I broken? Absolutely. Many times over, in many different ways. Am I broken? Sure. Probably. But broken things can still be useful. A broken bottle makes a hell of a weapon.