Shark Attacks, Motorcycle Accidents, and Muggings

As a child growing up, my mom, like all loving mothers, always told me I was special. She always told me I was the smartest, nicest, and cutest boy in the world (now she looks at me and asks “what happened?”—but that’s besides the point). But I knew I was different, and not for the reasons my mom mentioned. I was the only child in school with a big bump on my chest. I was the only child in school with scars running up and down my upper body, side, and back. And I noticed that when I went out to the playground, I would get tired much more quickly than the other children. I knew I was special, but not for the reasons my mom told me.

As a child I was embarrassed by my differences. I always wore shirts into the pool because I didn’t want other kids to see my scars. I hated going to the beach. With the exception of one ill-fated little league season, I never played any sports because I was always slower and got tired more quickly than the other children.

As I got older, my mentality started to change. It began in middle school—I would make up fantastic stories about my scars. Sometimes I told the other kids I was bitten by a shark or alligator. As I got older these stories morphed into motorcycle accidents or violent muggings. But without realizing it, in the end, after I had my fun with my stories, I would always tell my friends the actual story behind my scars: that I, along with millions of other Americans, have a congenital heart defect.

Learning to accept and embrace my physical differences was one of the most important transitions of my childhood. Today I can jump in a pool, shirtless, with pride. I can play a game of basketball with my friends, and not feel ashamed to take a breather after 15 minutes. I can go to the gym without feeling inadequate. And when people ask me about my scars, I’m delighted to share the fact that I was born with a heart defect, and unlike millions of Americans with similar problems who aren’t as lucky as me right now, I am 100% healthy.

Embracing my heart defect was the single most important thing I did that empowered me to live a normal life. When I was young and ashamed of my differences, it held me back and kept me from doing what I wanted—only when I learned to embrace what made me special was I able to truly live life.