Falling for the first time.

Reader, I make no secret that I have unilateral hearing loss. When I was about two, I had a too-high fever treated by (according to my mom) a too-high dose of medication administered by a military base doctor. The little hairs in my cochlea were destroyed, so my right ear is purely for symmetry aesthetics.

Aside from not being able to hear on that side (think George Bailey) I also don’t have great balance. This was exemplified on Sunday. I was walking with my husband, a bit distracted by distant firetrucks, when I tripped on the sidewalk and fell. I scraped my left arm pretty well, bleeding near my elbow and scratches all along the side of my hand. I also bruised both knees (no holes in my jeans, though! Explain that!) And I have a mysterious scrape on my right wrist and a tiny one on my right middle finger’s knuckle. For three days, my body was sore, and moving my arms was achy. I’m finally feeling more normal today, except for an annoying persistent ache by my elbow where I took the most damage.

I didn’t break or sprain anything. I didn’t even damage my glasses. Luis said he was worried I’d hurt my “pretty face” and he was impressed that I caught myself so I didn’t hurt myself worse.

I can’t remember falling like that before. I’m sure, since I have bad balance, I have taken falls before but they must’ve been when I was a kid. I remember falling off my bike, but that’s a different situation. I trip often, but this was the first time in recent memory the pavement beat me. Falling felt so strange, too. As it was happening, everything felt like it slowed down and sped up at the same time. When I first tripped, it felt like a normal, run-of-the-mill trip and I’d just catch myself. But then I kept falling and I got scared. I yelped out something like “Noo!” that I remember thinking, even at the time, sounded so silly.

When Luis came to see if I was okay or needed help, I started laughing. I had a choice in that moment, to start crying or to laugh it off. I chose laughter. It was close, though. Pain is painful and falling is scary.

And that is why I didn’t write on Sunday or Monday. I rested my body and allowed myself to recover instead of trying to type through the pain or think of cute things when I was feeling freaked out by the experience. I’m glad I don’t fall often. I’m afraid of that particular part of sidewalk now.

I wrote over two thousand words yesterday, so my story is no worse for wear.

I was thinking yesterday about the unhelpful thoughts I give myself sometimes. It’s like an anti-pep talk. I tell myself “It’s okay, you can stop now. You don’t need to write more.” Even though I want to write more and my writing goal for the day is totally attainable. For example, yesterday I made my goal be to reach 18K words from 16K words. That’s my normal word count goal (on a good day) so it’s no problem. But sometimes my mind plays tricks on me and starts wanting me to slack off. I got to 17K and fought with my mind until I pushed myself to 18K. Because stopping at 17,500 words is not okay on my watch.

I know how to fall and get back up without breaking anything, not even my glasses. Two thousand words can’t keep me down.