That Time I Fell On My Ass
Note to self: Keep your feet planted beneath you and avoid things that roll you around.
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The other day, I fell flat on my ass.
Actually, not my ass … my back.
I was roller-skating, so basically, I deserved it.
I was getting a little overconfident since I made it around the rink once without any trouble. That first time around, I lingered very close to the edge, making my way ever so slightly away from it during that second ill-fated attempt.
Then, bam. My arms were doing helicopter circles cartoon-style, and a moment later, I was on the ground pretending I was OK. I meekly offered two thumbs up to the one or two onlookers who looked a mix of concerned and amused.
That’s about when I realized I couldn’t really breathe and my lower back was throbbing. Sounding a bit like Marge Simpson if she had emphysema and was in the process of dying, I motioned for someone to get my wife, Moore.
Moore, by the way, looks like a friggin’ Xanadu star on skates, so she pirouetted my way, fairy dust trailing behind her.
OK, that’s not at all remotely true. But she is very good on skates. Whereas I never seem to do well when slippery things are beneath me. The only time I was rushed to the emergency room was after a pretty terrible snow tube incident that left me with a Harry Potter scar on my left knee. So I definitely should have known better than to put wheels on my already unsteady feet.
Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? It’s really not fun. It’s actually pretty terrifying. Getting your air knocked out of you is basically a spasm of your diaphragm, causing it to get tense instead of doing its normal thing of giving you breath.
Moore managed to get me to a nearby bench, where Mariann was sitting as well. I was in so much pain but even in the midst of it, I was aware that I had indeed gotten myself to the bench, so I knew I was probably going to live. Though I wasn’t positive.
But, goddammit, I still couldn’t breathe. And so I guess I sort of panicked then, because Moore and Mariann entered some kind of a tunnel, inside of which were giant floating black polka dots and staticy sound.
Someone pushed me back up into the sitting position. Mariann handed me a grape soda.
When I was growing up in those psychedelic 1980s, my friends frequently had birthday parties at the roller skating rink on Oak Tree Rd. I was never particularly good at it, but I did it anyway because I couldn’t risk being even more uncool than I already was.
There was also that time when I was about ten or eleven and was skating with my mom, when a sticky little kid rammed into her and caused her to fall right on her tailbone. That was an unfun day for me, but much worse for her—though I must give her props for figuring out how to drive home without actually putting her butt down on the seat.
As for me, after my diaphragm started acting like itself again and I inhaled that grape soda, I hobbled my way home. Lucky for me, one of my closest friends is a highly esteemed ER nurse, and she was able to talk me through what symptoms to look out for which would require a hospital visit. I also chatted with my doctor’s office, doped myself up on painkillers (the over-the-counter kind, y’all!), and stayed in bed for two days. I’m now up and at ‘em again, albeit slowly and sorely.
In short: I’m fine-ish, though I will never do a slippery, rolly thing again.
Today, I finally told my mom. I knew if I told her before I was better, she’d flip out and get all Jewish-mama on me (which admittedly has its charms). She told me that when these kinds of things happen, it reminds us how vulnerable we are—and I guess that’s obvious, but I have been thinking it nonstop, nonetheless.
Aside from the fall, the past week has been a bit topsy-turvy. There were things I wanted to hear about that I hadn’t, people I tried to connect with that I didn’t, and nights when I was supposed to sleep but I wasn’t. So it was almost comical that the universe decided to end that streak of weirdness with me falling on my ass.
Like, I get it, dude. You can stop trying to make your point.
That said, when I talked to my coach about it, she pointed out that I seem to have lowered the stakes quite a bit as compared to Old Jasmin (my words, not hers—and maybe I’m choosing those words because, in fact, I feel old thanks to my roller skate incident). Six or so months ago, she said, I would have probably reacted much differently—much more dramatically and catastrophically (again, my words).
Which I think is true!
So, hooray for me: I’m a tad less of a drama queen than I used to be, even though just a few days ago, I thought I might just die from a little fall.
I guess the point here is, don’t roller skate! Well, that and …
The more we work on ourselves, the more we try to grow, the more we self-soothe, and the more we have faith in the unfolding of time, the easier it becomes to deal with life’s struggles.
I think it all begins with getting in touch with our value system, pausing more often than not, seeing ourselves as leaders and not just people who react to shit, and investing in padded shorts for those times when we will inevitably fall.
xo,
jazz
The things we do when facing peer pressure... Happy you're ok
I fell on my ass so much as a kid trying roller or ice skating too that I haven't tried it again since 6th grade when I fell on my ass ice skating on a school trip, bruised my tailbone and had to sit on a donut pillow for a week. Kids were brutally mean to me about that. No more slippy stuff on my feet!! It's probably why I have never tried skiing or snow boarding. I hope you are feeling better!