We had a running joke in my family when I was growing up about what my father would come home to. It was not uncommon for my father to arrive after a long day at work and be greeted by nothing but a puddle of blood. My brother and I were so prone to stitches that the local hospital literally knew us by name. And we were okay with that. We were fearless kids who took risks and paid the price with our bodies. Nothing major. Everything heals with time and a bandage.
And yet as we grew up, I continued to take risks. Less physical, more emotional. In my twenties, jumping out of a plane was a highlight. In my thirties, wearing white around my two young daughters was considered a big risk. Now, in my forties, I'm taking risks with my life that don't just affect me, they affect others. My kids. My inner circle. My colleagues. Me. And if I fall down, a Band-Aid doesn't fix it all anymore.
And yet, there is something that draws me to want to continue to see how much I can push it. To see how much I can take on physically without hurting myself. To see how far I can push myself mentally to create and grow. And to see how much I can emotionally take on without losing it.
Tonight I tested myself with a very stupid experiment. I did the emotional version of walking across coals. And I paid the price for a ten minute period. And fortunately, my good friend was there to act as my human Band-Aid. Not only did she clean my wound with the proverbial Bactine, but then she apologized for allowing me be so stupid in the first place. It was not her fault. It was mine. I am the idiot who elects to do such stupid things. And when you ride without a helmet, you are going to get hurt. Luckily, I heal very quickly. Kind of like T-1000 from Terminator 2…except I'm not a bad guy.
And yet, this is one of the few lessons I will likely not learn from. To test these boundaries for myself is what makes me feel alive. I need to feel the full range of human emotion. And sometimes, hurt is just part of the picture. It is a small price to pay when joy plays the predominant role.
I will continue to take my risks, because I will continue to live my life with passion. And I will get hurt along the way. Sometimes, stitches and bandages won't help. That's what friends and time are for; those are the Band-Aids for grown ups. Hopefully, I won't need them often. But when I look down at my scars, each of them tells a story from my past.
I'll take my banged up journey over a smooth sail any day of the week.
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