For a few weeks I’ve been toying with the idea that I am broken. At first I felt resistance to the idea. Who would want someone who was broken? We throw away the broken things. They are unwanted, unloved, undeserving. I decided to take my resistance as an invitation. Go deeper, it whispered.  Okay, broken. What is broken about me? Every step for the past seven months has brought pain. Literal steps bringing literal pain. The cartilage in my hip joints is not what it once was. I am a young woman for this to be happening, but it is. I suspect there is little cartilage left. Hip degeneration is in…