About Falling

I fall more than any adult I know.

And I’m talking about the epic kind of falls.  The ones where there’s first involuntary stutter-stepping, and then there’s the realization that all the stutter-stepping isn’t helping, and then there’s the third phase of the fall, best described as “bracing”.  Hands out, don’t fall on your face, bracing.  And the fourth step,  letting gravity do its thing.

Make no mistake, each time I fall I make it count!

These are the kind of epic falls that most other adults have only when they slip on ice–once a winter, maybe.  These are the type of falls that are reserved otherwise for kids in play or for athletes in intense competition.  And they happen to me about once a week. Usually as result of little or no provocation at all.

I say that gravity likes me.  But that’s not an excuse I make after falling.  It’s just a slogan I keep in the back of my mind.  I no longer make excuses after I fall.

I used to make excuses.  I used to do

1.  the uncomfortable laugh, the “I’m okay, I’m alright” song and dance.

2. the “I must have tripped over something” while I look-backward-for-some-phony- physical-excuse-for-why-I-fell maneuver.

3. the “since I’m down here, I might as well look for the change I didn’t drop out of my pocket” thing.

4.  a combination of the first two

5.  a combination of the first three

I don’t do any of these now.  But I used to.

I don’t do much of anything after I fall these days.  Except get back up.  After 32 years of falling, I don’t make excuses for it anymore.  Anybody who’s been around me long enough knows that they don’t necessarily need to say much of anything after seeing me bite it.

They’ve gotten used to the fact that I’m unsure on my feet.  I want them to get used to that about me.  They might make sure I get back up again, but I’d like to think that after seeing me fall countless other times, there’s this understanding among friends and colleagues that nobody needs to be overly concerned about me when I fall.  Grace often takes the form of silence.

So, gone are the excuses.  Making excuses for falling was tiring.  Emotionally exhausting.  I have always been patient and kind to myself when I fall, so that was never the exhausting part. In fact, if every time I fell I could do it in an empty room, that would be awesome. The exhausting part about falling was never the falling itself, nor was it the falling in front of others.  It was always the part where I made excuses to others afterwards.

The solution to this problem:  I stopped making excuses to others afterwards.  When I fall in the presence of others, I now see getting up without all the drama and the excuses as a way to teach others about how common falling is for me.  That it’s no big deal.  That it’s something about me that they should get used to.  That they should be as unembarrassed for me as I am unembarrassed for myself. — “Upp, there goes Pat again!”

These days when I fall, I make my way back up onto my feet.  Just like I always have. And I start walking again.

Just like I always have.