These past few months have been rough. Coming back home has its pros and cons, just like every change in one's life. It is important to stay focused even when things don't go as planned, because when it happens there's a domino effect and the world seems to start crumbling down. I have been feeling a bit like that since I've gone back to my everyday life, but I know for a fact that you can always get back up and start over. In fact, most people do this every day without even realising.
Yesterday I fell for real. Twice. I have been trying to walk and exercise more these days, because I've realised that jumping on and off planes/trains/buses requires some stamina (I have some funny stories on this topic in the pipeline). Most of the time I feel satisfied with my progress, while other days I feel as if I were walking on a rope suspended in the air.
Falling in itself is not a problem. I have mastered all the techniques. I started learning how to fall "correctly" (i.e. so as to avoid major damage to my vital parts) when I first started walking with crutches, I must have been seven. My physical therapist would make me stand facing them and suddenly they would push me and let me fall on a massive matress. They would do this over and over again, telling me to get up as soon as I could. With time, I learnt how to fall more slowly and I knew exactly at what angle I needed to tilt my head in order not to get hurt. The system is a good one and it works in real life too. There's only one difference: there are no matresses in real life.
You take a step and you know you are going to end up on the floor. So your brain and body start getting ready for the fall. The only imperative is: protect your head. So you start falling and it feels like you have been thrown out of a plane. 3, 2, 1...Boom! You land on the ground, your head is safe, the rest of your body is in pain, but there's no time to feel the pain. As when you where seven, you need to get up as soon as possible. When I was little, I thought I needed to get up because, honestly, who would rather lie on the floor? Now I know that there's another reason for it and it's nothing to do with me. It's to do with those around me. They watch me fall they feel powerless. Guilty. Scared. That's why the first thing I do after I land on the ground is smile and tell everyone I am fine (I am not fine, it hurts like hell, but let them believe that). I can see their facial muscles relax and hear them say: "Alright, don't you ever do this again!" (as if I liked doing it!).
Here I am, the day after, covered in bruises and every single part of my body is telling me to leave it alone. As painful as it is, life goes on. This, too, shall pass. I guess it's a bit like that with everything in life. It hurts. You are covered in bruises, but you need to get back on your feet quickly and start over. Only your closest friends will know how much it still hurts, the rest of the world will see you smile and hear you say that everything is ok.
At the end of the day it's true. Everything is ok. As my boss used to say when I was worried about a translation not being good enough: "The world is still standing."
