This Side of Broken

Which side of broken are you on?  Some days I think I'm on the right-side of broken.  On those days I can laugh freely, love easily, and forgive quickly.  But then there are those other days.  Those left-side of broken days.  On those days I spew venom, reek havoc, and kill the proverbial buzz.  Those left-side days have shadows.  They have memories echoing with guilt and shame.  Those days find despair an easy companion and regret a not so distant friend.  I've come to realize that I can't get from the left to the right side of broken by making a leap.  The only way is through.  Some 2,000 years ago a man started on the left-side of broken. He travelled through torture, humiliation, and death before he came out just right of broken.  I'm afraid the same might be true for me.  A few years ago I stepped into my tragedy, my sorrow, and my dysfunction.  I'm still wading chest-deep in the mire and refuse but I've had moments when I've seen the other side - the right-side of broken.  I've learned that the stink is nearly unbearable and the pain sometimes unthinkable, but there's a man with scars on his hands who leads the way.  Which side of broken are you on?