Damaged Goods

The first time I ever heard those two words was on a lonely Friday evening sitting in rehab with my then best friend.

It was he, some chain smoking coke addict and me.  Just the three of us, sitting in a smoke filled room.  As far as I knew, I wasn't an addict.  As far as I knew, I was the normal one out of the three of us.

So, I sat there and just listened.

My then best friend and this chain smoking coke addict spent an hour exchanging sad tales of loneliness and despair.

I just sat there and listened.  I was the normal one.

"My parents want nothing to do with me.  My husband left me months ago." 

There was something so desperate in her words.  It wasn't those two sentences that resonated with hopelessness.  It was how she said it.

That chain smoking coke addict was about to get to the core of her self-loathing.

I held my head down the whole time.  I was the normal one.  My then best friend stared her straight into the eyes and just listened to her intently.  I tried to look distracted.  I was the normal one.

And then she said it.

She said two words I understood:

Damaged Goods.

"I am damaged goods."  She said it loud and clear.  And my head perked up.  She got my attention.  She was now speaking in terms that this normal one could understand.

Damaged goods.

Damn, did I know that feeling.  I wanted to tell her how I felt like damaged goods as a child.  How abnormal I felt as opposed to the other kids.  I wanted to tell her how damaged I felt that very moment because I was always different than my peers.

I wanted to say, "Darling, we are all damaged goods."

I wanted to retell the story of a dear friend who started having sex at 13.  It wasn't her fault that an 18 year old man was stronger than her.  I wanted to tell the chain smoking coke addict about the dear friend who lost her virginity at the age of 13 and decided that since her virginity was gone, there was no need to say "no" to all the boys that came next.

But I wanted to tell that chain smoking coke addict that my dear friend is now happily married with 2 children of her own.  I wanted to say so much about how we perceive ourselves is always more dangerous than how others see us.

I wanted to tell her that she isn't damaged goods; at least, not any more damaged than the rest of us.

I had so many words in my head.  I said nothing.  I was the normal one on that day.

So, I sat there as she kept speaking.

I couldn't tell you what she said next because the room was echoing with those words:  Damaged Goods.

And I looked around that rehab center.  I was surrounded by damaged goods... people who considered themselves damaged beyond repair.  And I looked at my then best friend and a light went off in my head...

"This man, I affectionately look up to, thinks he is damaged goods.  How can the best friend I've ever known think such a thing?"

A year later, my then best friend was laid to rest.

In the overcrowded church filled with people of all ages and colors, I kept thinking, "God, if he could only see this now.  God, if he only knew his impact, how much he was loved, how many he inspired...."

The man who considered himself damaged goods inspired all of us... the normal ones.

Sometimes, I revert back to those thoughts I had as a child.  The thoughts where I believed I was damaged goods.  I get these ideas that I am only loved on the condition of how perfect I am.

It's funny how hard we are on ourselves.  It's funny how we think we are damaged because our resume includes a divorce or a past riddled with ghosts or a closet filled with skeletons.  It's funny how we question why anyone would dare love us.

And it's not funny.

It's not funny because it's the idea of being damaged goods that leads some to an early grave.  It's the self-loathing that halts progress in its footsteps. 

It's the label of damaged goods we give ourselves that prevents us from seeing that there is an array of other damaged goods waiting to accept us and love us for the flawed beings we are. 

The first time I ever heard that term was on a lonely Friday evening sitting in rehab with my then best friend.

It was also the same night I realized that we only become damaged goods when we believe we are damaged goods.