Scars

Cicatrices

Some time ago a friend said I should tell mi story, it was important for the world to learn about it. I must announce that important event that left a mark on me forever.

I asked him: “What can I give the world, if I have done nothing important in my life”

His answer was concise: “Out there, there’s somebody dealing with her own deamons that only needs to feel understood. She needs to know that you have been there too.”

And that’s how I started to dig into my pain, because it turns out we all have one: something that left a mark on us and worked as a compass for the rest of our lives. Because we all have been beaten up at some point, and the wound left might not be healed. It could skin over faster if we show it to others and they show us theirs. I didn’t have to be a celebrity to have a story that could fit into a headline for it to be worth sharing and for other’s to benefit from it.

That’s why today I’m going to share something: I felt alone and surf was my haven.

For years, as a teenager, I didn’t know how to make friends and started to lock my self in a jail that only fitted me, because its shape was the shape of my body. People were hard to read, I didn’t know how to be social and when I tried it felt awkward. In an attempt to avoid feeling like that I stopped approaching to those  weird creatures, adding a padlock each day to the bars that kept me from the outside.

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The sea was my special universe where nothing bad could exist, nor fear, everything was possible out there. It kept me sane and helped me meditate about life, the human condition and what those able to approach me told me. It took a while for me to learn to be social and along the way I had several headaches and arguments with those patient enough to guide me through the process. As someone learning to walk again, I had to learn by reading, listening and putting into practice each lesson.

Thanks to my mom I was into surf from a very young age, and it allowed me to endure all those years of solitude. Thanks to very patient people like my (now) wife and some (now) friends, the wound healed, but the scar is still visible. When I look at it I can only remember how I felt, how other’s must feel right now and how can I help them. It brings back that abandoned-dog feeling, the sensation of being a left out, but it also reminds me of those peaceful moments on a surfboard where I was digesting the lessons my masters gave me.

I don’t know yet if I can help those with the same scar or wound, aside from showing my own. I try to look at it often, because it helps me being more compassionate with people, as they might be struggling to heal their own wound. If you are healing or with a scar already that hurts when looking at it I hope you now understand we all have one with its own particular shape and pain. If you show it it will hurt less and heal sooner. So, tell me, how does your scar look like?

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