Five-Minute Fridays: Fall
Falling is something I'm intimately familiar with, thanks to three years as a diver. Diving is, some would say, falling with style. And what happens when we fall? Whether we're falling "gracefully" (or trying to) into water, or falling out of a tree towards the ground, the process is the same. As the fall begins, adrenaline rushes. Our heart leaps to our throat, our stomach drops, our hearts race. In that split second between leaving something solid and hitting the ground (or water), everything is terrifying, uncertain. We don't know how we'll land, or where. We may be able to control it, flipping, twisting, or simply turning to protect the more vulnerable parts of our body from the impact, but even if we can, it may not go as we plan. And then we land, and it can knock the wind out of us. Sometimes other people watch us fall, and come running to our rescue, but sometimes we're alone. Sometimes the fall leaves bruises or scars, and everywhere we go people will ask what's happened. But sometimes a fall that may be equally as painful doesn't leave a mark, and we may wish people would ask what had happened to give us the chance to talk about it. But we don't want to bring it up, because we don't want to be too demanding. People have enough broken bones and bruises without having to deal with our invisible scars. But here's the thing: we all have them. Everyone has fallen, everyone has times of need, and in those times everyone's needs and hurts are different. But I believe everyone has the right to be heard and held, to know that they are loved when they've fallen. From my own experiences I've learned to believe in the power of being present, of just sitting with someone through their pain or telling them that you're listening, even if you don't have anything more than that to say, even if you don't fully understand what someone else is experiencing. Everyone falls, and everyone deserves a hand getting back up.