Fallen Woman

I am a fallen woman.

That is to say, I fall a lot.

A favorite family story is the time my right foot got lodged in the toilet, which lead to the end of my ballet career. You can ask me about it sometime.

I have slipped down stairs. I have slipped upstairs. I have walked into walls, poles, doorways, people.

It's not that I am not paying attention. In fact, I pride myself on being hyper attentive to the world around me.

This last fall, however, was a doozy. I slipped coming out of the shower (the thing we all fear the most, methinks) and was left stranded in my hallway, soaking wet and in extreme pain. Mercifully, I have an awesome neighbor who was able to hear my screams and get me help. 

So, I've spent the past month at my parents' house recovering from the surgery I had to put my ankle back together. This is what they did:

Ouch, right? I have another 4 weeks without being able to put weight on it, another 4 weeks away from my home, job and dog and another 4 weeks staying with my parents. 

I cannot tell you how much I am valuing this time. I've been reading, spending time with my family and thinking about my life, my choices and my privilege.

I am taking in the fucked up world around me. I am heartbroken by Ukraine, angered by Buffalo, furious at Congress, SCOTUS and anyone else in charge.

I can promise you this: the next chapter in my life won't be complacent.