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I stand, alone

I turn, I twist, I stall

Feet, legs, arms

I lurch, I grab, I stab

The air, then

I fall, I fall, I fall

Head slams step,

Fist finds floor,

Heart stops time.

Pain floods my brain, then

I Rage, I Rage, I Rage.

Life cracks the whip

Alive or dead?

I rise, I rise, I rise

And move on.

The art of falling

I live with a condition called Cerebral Palsy which is as unique as I am. Everyone with CP has a different experience of it.  For me, falling over is just part of who I am. I have been falling ever since I could walk. I have split my head open, knocked teeth out, bruised ribs and twisted ankles but, up to now, I haven’t broken any bones. Why? Because I was taught how to fall, a skill I share with stunt guys, which I think is pretty cool!

After the shock and the pain, I always feel anger. Anger at myself for losing my footing. Anger at the Universe for giving me a good kicking.

Falling over, in public, is excruciatingly embarrassing,  for anyone, right? Yet my own feelings of inadequacy fascinate me, Is it because falling shows frailty, an inability to stand on one’s own two feet and be in control? Or perhaps it’s because it confirms some non-disabled people’s stereotypical views about us, disabled people, needing to be cared for? Anyone who knows me would laugh out loud at this!

I don’t like fuss. My husband knows just to walk away and let me get up in my own way and in my own time.  He gets a few dirty looks for it but he has discovered that it’s better than an angry wife! 😠