As a kid, I used to get hurt a lot. Like, every alternate day, I’d come home battered and bleeding.
I was a rather clumsy boy. I still am, for the most part. Perhaps it is not something you can just outgrow. Nor was I ever the greatest of athletes. But neither of those ever stopped me from doing all the crazy things that seemed fun in moment, irrespective of the consequences.
That is the thing about childhood, though. You can do whatever the hell you want, break or tear anything, and soon enough, it will be as good as new. Perhaps even better.
Unfortunately, as with adult salamanders, our capacity to heal plummets with age.
After 18, you have to be especially wary about hurting your bones or your joints, else they may never recover completely.
In the mid twenties, you start keeping a closer track of your aches and niggles. This is a list I made just last night, of all the things that hurt…
- Left shoulder
- Left wrist
And, since then, I have also bit my tongue, so…
I cannot stop getting hurt. It is just how life goes, right? If you jump, you must be prepared to accept the fall.
No, what I must learn is a simple, yet alien concept that would supposedly help me live to fight another day: REST.