Oh my God! September has gone by and I haven’t written a thing, I’m the fucking worst. The other day I posted a story on Instagram asking who still read, and many of you raised your hand… let’s see if those same people read this, haha. Anyway, today I have a super interesting post for everyone (well, at least for me it is), and I hope you enjoy it and find it useful. Even if it’s just to say you’ve read something! I’m not going to drag this out or tell you what it’s about, I’ll let you dive in and keep reading… Here we go!

Okay, the title was a hint, so I’m sure many of you already know what this is about. Today, I’m not in the mood for beating around the bush before I tell you my little stories. I’ve got a lot to say, and I don’t want to waste space or time. Let’s start… Those of you who follow me on social media are already up to speed with my daily life and all the little mishaps that happen to me. But in this space, I dive a little deeper into everything I express out loud. I’ve always been better at expressing myself in writing than speaking. When I write, the words come from my subconscious with no filter. Unlike when I speak, where I feel something holds them back, edits them, cuts them, or changes them in some way. So, whoever doesn’t read my blog is missing out on half the story, haha! Fuck, and I said I wasn’t going to do a long intro… and I’ve done it again. I’m the worst… someone stop me!

Alright, now let’s get to the point. You all probably know (or not) that the other day, while walking the fucking dog, it ran off, and I had to leap like Wonder Woman to catch it. The problem is, I’m not Wonder Woman, and I fell like an idiot. My knees are a mess, and a week later, one of them is still bloody and icky. This got me thinking that, sometimes, we all have physical wounds that take time to heal. We look at them, treat them little by little, and they’re there every day, reminding us of why they’re there and how they happened. They make you relive it, forcing us to process the physical and emotional pain. It’s an active and constant therapy. Great, right? But now I’m wondering: what about our internal wounds? Those are also there, open, begging to be healed, but we ignore them. We don’t see them, we let them fester, grow, get infected… and they never heal.

How many of those wounds are we carrying inside? Wounds that rot us from the inside, that no longer ask for help but have resigned themselves to being infected for the rest of their lives. I ask myself how many unhealed wounds I carry inside, for how long, who caused them, and why… How can I find and heal them? Who’s to blame? Yeah, yeah… I’m always questioning myselt and making reflections, don’t you do the same? I guess I’m the crazy one in the story. Well, whatever, crazy or not, at least I’m aware that parts of me are rotting inside (eww, I don’t want to rot!). The thing is, without realizing it, I’ve been slowly finding those little wounds inside me and healing them one by one. Instead of Betadine, I use a bit of acceptance; instead of a band-aid, I use reflection. I talk to each one of them, apologize for neglecting them, for forgetting them, for letting them fester. Little by little, I heal them with love and patience. Each one forgives me and heals, although, as so much time has passed, some leave scars. But those scars are closed and healed, and they represent just another battle won, an inner victory.

Let’s heal our internal wounds, catching them in time so they don’t form tough, unhealable scabs. Clean every wound, new or old, with a splash of positive energy, awareness, and acceptance. Uncover them all and learn from them. Let them speak to you, tell you about their suffering, and what they need to heal. Be patient, because each wound needs its time to heal. But most importantly, be alert to the dangers that could get you into more trouble and cause new wounds… (like the fucking dog).