Last night I had the privilege of spending an uninterrupted evening with a close friend. We effortlessly wove together a complex web, talking at length about family, relationships, edge living, interface design and women as leaders in the workplace. We also ate pizza and watched Mean Girls.
Somewhere between Lindsay Lohan and a chi machine session, the subject turned to scars. Physical and unseen, we all seem to have them. Some can be lasered off, others are chronic with scar tissue that will never fade.
My scar has been both visible and concealed. It bled profusely for four years and is now mostly healed.
It still opens up occasionally but I have learned how to to manage it:
- I surround myself with a support system
- I develop daily standards and try to live up to them
- I build structure and adapt to chaos in parallel
The mark it left behind is an unreasonable mindset married with an acute self awareness.
Imagine for a moment wanting to dive out of the plane right now, you just need a designated mark to land on. You’re also aware that when you dive out the plane that the mark could always move.
Eventually I won’t need the mark. That boldness will come with time.
This is how I treat my scar. I don’t put a band aid on a bullet wound and expect it to heal. I remove the debris, dress it and let it mend.