If you don’t know this about me, I have an unfortunate proclivity for breaking things.

However!

The more unfortunate thing is those things usually do not belong to me.

It’s a problem.

Whenever I go to someone’s house for the first time, my elbows may as well be sewn to my sides, and in the glassware aisle of department stores?

I’ll have you know I do a very convincing impression of a totem pole.

For young Sarah, the pithy “If you break it, you buy it!” wasn’t just a threat.

It was a promise.

One that is unfortunately still relevant.

I now offer a list of the most notable things I’ve broken:

A chandelier fifteen feet in the air.

The lid of an ornate glass lemonade dispenser.

An entirely innocent and adorable elephant mug.

And most recently, a dinner plate.

All felled by yours truly.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, I figure with everyone crammed in together, things are going to start breaking sooner or later, so the lessons I’ve learned from being a *eh-hem* home wrecker are likely more relevant than ever!

See, in my 20+ year career of breaking things left, right, and center, I’ve discovered that the aftermath of shattering whatever it may be is a prime time to sit up and take notice of the people in your vicinity.

Because here’s the thing:

There’s nothing like the unexpected sound of breaking glass to make people react before fully thinking about it.

And their unfiltered response can tell you a lot.

Maya Angelou famously said,

“When people show you who they are, believe them.”

I agree.

And let me tell you, breaking things is a solid way to suss out the inner being of the people who witness the shattering.

So!

With that being said, I want to examine the things that can be gleaned from the three typical responses I’ve garnered on the back end of breaking things.

Response 1: Anger

For some people, the sound of shattering glass necessitates screaming.

Don’t ask me why.

I have no idea.

You’d think that I’d gone all Martina, The Beautiful Cockroach on them, and intentionally smashed their favorite teapot.

Pretty much never the case, but c’est la vie.

Frankly, I’m grateful for their honest reaction because it tells me that they value that teapot (or x, y, and z thing) more than they value treating me with dignity.

Riffing off Queen Angelou,

“When people show you who you are to them, believe them.”

And if you rank lower than a teapot, it’s a very good sign it’s time to get the heck out of dodge.

Pronto.

Seriously.

It’s okay for someone to be upset if you break something.

Maybe they had a bad day.

Or that item was really important to them.

But if it was clearly an accident and they completely fly off the handle?

Response 2: Indifference

If you’re like me, the word “indifference” does not inspire warm and fuzzy feelings.

HOWEVER!

Let me set the scene:

I had just accidentally broken the entire handle off my roommate’s adorable elephant mug, and I was in full panic mode.

She grew up in Africa, so in my mind, the elephant mug must’ve been of high, high importance.

A childhood momento.

A cherished beverage vessel from which to sip and reminisce.

And I had just broken it.

I couldn’t find a gif, but if you’ve seen The Princess Diaries, this was me:

I may or may not have willed my saliva to resinousness in a desperate bid to get the handle to reattach.

I achieved little (read: no) success.

My second thought was to simply pretend that the mug had never had a handle at all.

Surely she wouldn’t notice.

I would just play it cool and not say anything until such an opportunity presented itself to lean into my Asian ancestry and compliment her on her graduation from a handled mug to the far superior Chinese-buffet style way of hot beverage consumption.

That was my plan anyways.

And I’m not saying it wouldn’t have worked!

However, she happened to come into the room just then, catching me with her mug and its handle in hand.

She looked at me.

I looked at her.

…all six feet of her.

“I am so sorry,” I blurted. “Please don’t be mad–I’ll buy you a new one! I promise!”

She shrugged and laughed.

“Sarah, it’s just things.”

And then she put her backpack down and went about her business.

I was aghast, and I full on just stood there staring at her for probably thirty seconds.

I’d been ready to be screamed at, but she was completely indifferent to the destruction of Mr. Elephant.

“It’s just things,” she’d said.

Honestly, that memory gives me the warm fuzzies because in just one sentence she taught me such a valuable lesson.

Broken things are just that: things.

Their breakers are human beings.

We should treat each accordingly.

Response 3: “Are You Okay?”

This, at least for me, has been the most infrequent response, but it’s also the one that I like best!

I know… I know.

Nemo judex in causa sua.

However!

Even if I didn’t break things left, right, and center, I would still say that this is the paragon response because it goes above and beyond in approaching the person who feels embarrassed and/or upset about having yet again broken something that didn’t belong to them.

I’ve experienced this twice.

The first time was when I shattered the top of my aunt’s glass lemonade dispenser after a family get-together. She swooped in and got me away from the broken glass ASAP before making my uncle clean it.

She wasn’t even mad.

She just wanted me to be okay.

The same thing happened just last week when I dropped a dinner plate, and my mom came, broom in hand, to rescue bare-footed me.

I recognize that both of these instances feature family, but I don’t think it must or should be this way.

In fact, a goal I have for myself is to make sure that I follow the example they gave me when I’m going about life generally.

Do I run towards a mess or run away?

Do I help or berate?

Am I checking if the person is okay?

All good questions.

And they don’t only apply to broken plates 🙂