My oldest brother fell out of a tree when he was 9 years old (this is back in the days when children still climbed trees to great heights without adults around). It knocked the wind out of him and scared me, 2 years younger, that he was seriously hurt. But being young and resilient, within 20 minutes he was fine and back to playing with me in the backyard.
I also remember a time when we were playing mumbley-peg (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mumblety-peg) and he threw the knife into the top of my foot. We both just stared at it for a minute, sticking out of the top of my shoe. Then I reached down, pulled it out, and walked into the house to get bandaged up. No tears, even. In our family, even if you were bleeding it didn’t necessarily warrant a big production.
Nonetheless, I hated falling down even as a child. It was something I avoided at all costs. And because I’m so clumsy, it was something always present as a possibility. I remember learning to ride a bike and hating it because I fell down so much. When I learned how to roller skate as a pre-teen (this was pre-roller-blades) I did it solo and VERY gradually, without falling once. I got to be better than my brother, after many hours of dedicated practice, and that was enough for me.
Fast-forward a bunch of years (more than 30 is all I will commit to) to my first day on a new job. I’m excited. Eager. Energized. I show up so early the office isn’t even open yet. So, being the multitasker I am, I decide this is a great opportunity to stop by FedEx and mail a package. They’re always open early, so why not? It’s a bright sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, roads are clear, and I get there with plenty of time.
Get out of the car: check. Grap the item to be sent: check. Go into the store: check. So far so good, humming along beautifully. Fill out the shipping slip: check. Realize that I’ve forgotten something to go in the package, gather up my stuff and walk briskly out to the car to grab it so I can get back to the office quickly (it’s important on day 1 that you are one of the first ones there, right??).
I’m rounding the back of my car to open the door and suddenly I go flying along with everything I’m holding. No reason at all. Just stepped wrong and lost my balance. (I am clumsy by nature) Fell spread eagle, with things scattered around me for 5 feet radius. For a full 30 seconds, I lay there and think: ‘Damn this hurts!’ Gingerly I get up, barely able to support myself on my hands because I scraped my palms and knees, look around, and tears fill my eyes. I’m instantly scanning the parking lot to see who else sees me being such a big baby (thankfully it was empty!).
It takes me a full 8 minutes to gather myself and my belongings, and then I sit in the car for another 5 before I get myself together enough to venture into the store to mail the package. Mind you, I’m shaking like a leaf and my hands are clutching napkins to stop the bleeding. So, back into FedEx we go, and the clerk doesn’t seem to notice my disheveled state, so I get the package off and back to the car. I’m walking like a 90-year old with advanced arthritis at this point, by the way.
Deep breath, back to the office we go. (We’re now 1/2 hr later than planned arrival time…ugh.)
Get into the office without falling down (thank you Lord!) and go to sit down with the new boss. But oops I don’t get my hands washed up and I’m still bleeding and clutching bloody napkins when he reaches out his hand to me to shake. So I have to tell him the whole stupid story (slightly edited to make myself not quite so pathetic) and he looks at me sympathetically (and a little disgusted) and says “Would you like to go clean up?” This is one of those things like when people offer you gum: you always say yes, because it is just a polite way of telling you that you have bad breath or look like hell. I go clean up, we get on with the day, and I recover.
Fast forward again 3 months later: my wrist is STILL sore from landing on it. I still can’t hold heavy items in my left hand without help from my right. And to myself I keep saying: When exactly did I become so frail and tender?
So here’s my theory:
Practice makes perfect. When you’re young, you fall down just trying to walk from point A to point B. You fall down playing games. You wrestle with each other. You are always throwing yourself physically into whatever comes your way. Even as a young person, you’re still very prone to flops and foibles that keep that innate sense of ‘how to fall right’ intact. I remember even in my 20s falling down and bouncing up without even a pause and barely a scratch, even though I hated it.
But when you grow up, you spend most of your time upright and fall down very little, and you forget the part of you that learned how to fall so it didn’t hurt. Plus, you’re farther from the ground than you once were, so there’s more gravity against you. And, if you are like most of us, you have a lot more ‘you’ to balance when you’re on your way down, which makes those old moves less successful than they once were.
All of this makes it hurt more when you fall down as an adult. And you’re so unused to it that you take it much more personally than you did when you were young. (Which, for me, was very personally to begin with so it’s not great) It reminds you that you are not Superman or Superwoman, that you are aging, and that you will, one day, be unable to walk without assistance. Your ego is very bruised.
But…what if…what if we DID keep falling down as adults? What if we DID keep throwing ourselves into things and risking ourselves? Wouldn’t we keep ourselves flexible AND strong?
So, my new year’s resolution for 2013 (one of them, anyway) is to risk falling more. To skip lightly up and down stairs instead of carefully holding to the railing like I am 90. To remember what it’s like to be confident in my steps by walking more often and more distance. I’m still clumsy as ever, but I want to remember how to fall again, and hopefully overcome my fear. Who knows, maybe it will make me brave in other, bigger things, as well?
Overly Honest 