The Beauty in Breaking

Much of Harper’s story concerns healing, both internal and external. The literal responsibility of her profession demands an ability to heal the bodies of others, while the ongoing challenge for her emotional and mental well-being centers on her ability to heal from her own wounds. However, she does not have the luxury of fully healing from the traumas of her life experiences before treating and healing others; the two types of healing must occur in tandem.

Eventually, when Harper can find healing for the deepest wound of her childhood, her father’s violent actions inside in their home, forgiveness is the catalyst. As she chooses to forgive her father, she writes, “Forgiveness condones nothing, but it does cast off the chains of anger, judgment, resentment, denial, and pain that choke growth” (229). Thus, her decision to forgive—which echoes her patient Victoria Honor’s choice at the VA Hospital—enables her inner healing. Throughout the book, the constant acknowledgment that both inner and outer healing are necessary, ongoing aspects of the human experience gives the narrative a genuine resonance with life itself. The Beauty in Breaking is not a work of optimistic fantasy but an exploration of the complex role of healing in human bodies and relationships.

As Harper chronicles the harrowing aspects of her childhood stemming from domestic violence, she unpacks the nature of this kind of trauma. The incidents of violence were not one-time or rare events but a recurring pattern that deprived her of a happy childhood. Harper recalls talking to an imaginary guardian angel, which took the form of a comforting voice. The angel told her that she would be okay, that she would somehow make it through this hell. Even at the age of seven, Harper was summoning up the courage to get involved, believing that she had a role to play in stopping the violence in her home: “I had to stop it. I had to help my older brother, who was on his way into the fray. I had to stop my father from killing my mother” (5). A few years later, as a tween, Harper finally called the police on her father; however, because of conflicting accounts, the police were unconvinced that her father posed a threat to the family. The aftermath of domestic violence, in part, led to Harper’s deep suspicion of law enforcement, as her experience was that it gave her and her family no protection from her father’s explosive temper and physical aggression.

This trauma stayed with Harper for years to come. Even during her divorce, the roots of her family’s disfunction came back with a vengeance. As Harper reflects on the dissolution of her marriage, she writes, “The breakup of my marriage was stoking in me the deep sense of abandonment that had lain dormant during my marriage, the loss of the home life I had craved but never had. I knew on some level that this was the real source of my grief” (27). The wounds of her childhood were not fully healed, and the impact of losing her childhood to an abusive environment was still fresh as she faced this new personal setback. Years later, her souring relationship with Colin again recalled the pain of her childhood trauma. The aftermath of domestic abuse remains a part of her even as she forgives and makes deliberate choices to pursue a life of sound mental and emotional health. 

The interplay between expectation and reality is a key element throughout the book. During Harper’s childhood, the expectation to live in a safe home was shattered by the reality of her father’s constant violence. When she graduated from her residency, expecting to look at her husband smiling back at her, the reality she faced was divorce. In working with her patients, Harper experiences this theme daily, expecting to save lives, to find cures and diagnoses, when the reality of her work as an emergency room doctor often includes death and tragedy. The dynamic between expectation and reality is a natural part of the human experience, yet so much of our collective heartbreak lies in the chasm between what we expect life to be and what it turns out to be.

In the stories of some of Harper’s patients, this dynamic becomes increasingly apparent. As she broke the news to Baby Tally’s family about their child’s death, the inexplicable reality of this tragedy shattered the expectation that parents should never have to experience the loss of a child. As Harper treated Erik, a man with a history of sexual abuse and physical assault, her conviction that all people deserve kindness in the context of an examination room mitigated her expectation about the dangers of engaging with such a man. Beyond our actions and words, we are frail, just a moment away from being completely broken.