The Fall

Normally whenever I hear the word “falling” there are a few things that would come to mind. Maybe countless love songs regarding the topic. Or a beaded braided Alicia Keys making her debut. Or even the urban vigilante Michael Douglas who lost his damn mind in the movie Falling Down. (I must admit I’ve felt his rage when trying to order a McMuffin at 10:32am. Why can’t all restaurants implement breakfast all day?) But now whenever I hear the word what immediately comes to mind is my embarrassing ass tumble I made down my own ass stairs in my own ass house a few months ago.

They say most accidents happen at home. (smh)

I had just finished cleaning my bathroom and the product I used claiming to be “all natural” gave off some nothing but natural fumes which caused me to feel dizzy. While my common sense should have told me to go sit down somewhere or at least pay attention to where I was going, I instead moved along with my evening as if I wasn’t feeling like Wile E. Coyote after he'd just had an anvil dropped on him.

And why should I slow down? The last I checked things still needed to be done, I’m still a mom and my son’s socks were still not thrown in the hamper. Or whatever the thing was I thought was so serious at the time. So I kept moving like I always do and scolded my son. I said something in a super commanding voice like “Just do it because I said so!”, turned to make my exit down the stairs, and then began my humiliating decent to the bottom. I still don’t think I’ve regained all of my parental cred.

Luckily I slid down on my back and didn’t go face first. But in doing so, my left leg didn’t get the memo which direction I was going which led to my left foot bending at an angle a foot was never meant to bend into. I don’t know what was more damaged, my quickly swelling foot or my image of a strong parent I’ve attempted to maintain after several years as a divorced mom.

My 12 year old son was scared and mortified, and and we both called for Glenn who gallantly appeared and carried me to the couch and made me an ice pack. (Even in that moment as much pain as I was in, I took note of how super hot that was). My pride was left on the bottom step and I cried and yelled for strong drugs. They say most accidents happen in the home. They also say everything happens for a reason. I don’t exactly know who “they” are or where they get their intel but I find that sometimes “they” know what they’re talking about.

The truth was I should have been listening to my body more but instead I was treating it like my high school history teacher and just tuning out. And because I hadn't, it meant days of crutches (those jerks are more difficult than they look), more days in a boot and weeks of physical therapy. I realized that since my diagnosis, (and let’s be honest even before that as a busy mom) my unspoken mantra was to keep moving at all costs. Since my diagnosis, I never call myself sick, and I always consider myself perfect and healthy, which I’m not changing, but in doing so I wasn’t listening to my body because in my mind that was admitting defeat. It would be admitting I had less energy sometimes than I normally do. It would mean admitting maybe tonight I had the energy for takeout, not a homecooked meal. It would mean I was losing.

What you resist, persists.

From a young age when I think of a sick person I think of someone staying in one place not moving. I was not going to be that person. Well, I ended up being exactly that person for a few weeks. In fighting against the thing I feared, that’s exactly what I got. Doesn’t life always work like that? Psychiatrist Carl Jung said the more you resist something in life, you bring it to you. Many know this as a metaphysical principal as well. The reason you attract whatever you resist is because you are powerfully focused on it with strong emotion, and what you focus on strongly, you attract to you.

And truth be told, I had kind of drifted into a rut or what I sometimes refer to as a travel size depression. Through all of this, my attitude has been pretty positive. (Well not counting the first month, my attitude was crap for that first month, not gonna lie). But of course I do have periods of time where my thoughts get the best of me. The tiny violin starts to play, then the sad piano, there's a charcuterie board...various types of dips appear alongside Tostitos scoops, and then before I know it, it’s a delicious pity party for one. I was seeing all of the negativity in my situation and I was feeling frustrated. That fall and losing all mobility was just what I needed. It really helped me appreciate how much I can still do, which is pretty much everything. So what was I so depressed about? Things could be SO much worse.

As I lay on the couch for a few weeks, I was miserable. I had to skip the first hike of spring I'd planned with the boys, couldn’t play with the dog. And even worse I couldn’t wear sexy shoes. When I wasn’t watching episodes of Ted Lasso or Insecure (#TeamIssa), I thought about all of my blessings and abilities I had been taking for granted because just one thing wasn’t going right. I thought about things I’d been saying I’m going to do but not doing. I thought about my own accountability in how I feel everyday and the person I wanted to be for myself, family and friends. I started this blog. Had I not ridiculously fell down those stairs I might still be walking around in an ungrateful and complainy fog.

So now, as much as I never like to slow down, I don’t treat my body like preflight instructions, and I actually listen to it. And when “they” say everything happens for a reason, I believe them.