Three Decades of Making Waves
Overview
My name is Óscar. Yes, that’s my real name. But Starson? Well, let’s just say it’s a little literary disguise. Today I’m 56 years old, an age that sometimes weighs on my bones after a long day, but that’s also given me a clarity I wouldn’t trade for anything.
My life revolves around three pillars: my daughter, who lights up my days with her laughter and impossible questions; my wife, the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met, a beacon in my storms; and our Maltese bichon, a white whirlwind who waits for me by the door with sad eyes every time my suitcase and I disappear for work.
Currently, I work at a multinational in the energy sector that, for these pages, I’ll call “Integra.” Looking at everything in perspective today, I feel lucky. But it wasn’t always like this.
Before Integra
I’ve been at Integra for almost 30 years, an eternity if you think about it. However, it wasn’t my first company, and that’s a difference that sets me apart from the herd. At Integra, most of my colleagues are what they call one company men: loyal souls who came in young, with black hair still intact and dreams whole, and stayed forever. I don’t blame them; there’s a certain security in that life, like a river that always flows through the same channel. But I’m not like that.
Before landing here, my steps took me down other paths, some straight, others full of curves and bumps. I worked at a small consultancy that went bankrupt before I could learn to love it, and then at a tech firm where the days were short and the nights, eternal. Those years toughened me, taught me not to take anything for granted.
When I arrived at Integra, I wasn’t a wide-eyed rookie; I was a man who had already seen how the ground can shake beneath your feet.
Breaking Waves
My role at Integra has long been that of someone who stirs the waters. As Director of Innovation — or at least I was until everything changed — my job was to break molds, imagine what didn’t yet exist, push a giant company to look beyond its own walls. It wasn’t easy. Integra is a place of solid structures, endless meetings, and people who prefer “we’ve always done it this way” to “what if.” But I believed in what I did.
I came from a background that had shaped me with firm principles: a religious school where I was taught that honesty, effort, and faith in something bigger could guide you through any storm. For years, I thought those rules were universal, that if you followed them, the world would give you something close to justice. How naive I was.
Home Is Where the Chaos Is
My personal life, on the other hand, has always been my refuge. My daughter, just turned 20, is my pride and my challenge. She has that mix of curiosity and rebellion that reminds me of myself at her age, though she carries it with more grace. She asks me things like “Dad, why don’t you retire already?” and I laugh, because I’m not ready to stop fighting my battles yet.
My wife, Ana — another borrowed name for these pages — is my anchor. With her, I’ve learned that love isn’t just a feeling, but a daily decision. We met in a time when I was more chaos than order, and she saw something in me that I couldn’t see yet. Together, we’ve built a house that’s not just walls, but a place where the Maltese bichon, whom we’ll call “Nube” for his habit of floating between sofas, reigns as a small furry dictator.
When I travel for work, and those trips are more frequent than I’d like, Nube punishes me with his indifference when I return. But in the end, a cookie and a while in the park fix everything.
The Fall of 2016
Almost 30 years at Integra doesn’t mean I’ve merged with its gears. I’ve always felt a bit of an outlier, even on the good days. Maybe that’s why, when the blow came in 2016, I wasn’t so surprised by the what, but by the how.
I had climbed that corporate pyramid with effort, with the conviction that my work could change things. And I did, for a time. Projects that seemed impossible came through, teams that didn’t believe in themselves found their spark. But I also earned silent enemies, shadows that I didn’t see grow until it was too late. That year, everything I had built came crashing down, and me with it.
However, I don’t want you to imagine me as a broken man. Today, as I write this, I look out the window and see a sky that, although gray, promises to clear. I’m still at Integra, yes, but I’m not the same. I’ve learned to navigate its currents without drowning in them. My daughter keeps me young, my wife keeps me on my feet, and Nube reminds me that life, in the end, is simpler than it seems.
This post isn’t just my story — or someone else’s that could be me — it’s an attempt to lend a hand. If you’ve ever felt trapped in a place you don’t understand, or if you’re afraid that the next step will make you fall, stay with me. Between these lanes, I hope you find something that helps you get up, like I did.
Summary
Thirty years at Integra have taught me that loyalty isn’t about staying in the same place — it’s about staying true to yourself. The ground can shake, the rules can change, but what matters is finding your anchor and your light along the way.