Falling

It occurred to me the other day that you can tell a lot about people by the way they fall down. Now, most people try really hard not to fall down, but it happens to us all occasionally. Sometimes we stumble, sometimes we fall, sometimes we are gently nudged and then trip and sometimes we are shoved violently down the stairs when we were least expecting it. But how people react to the fall is where their true character shows through.

Some people lay at the bottom of the stairs broken and bloody and just wait to die.

Some people lay there screaming until someone comes to help them, needing someone to bear witness to their pain and suffering, incapable of pulling themselves up without the help of someone else, needing constant reassurance that they can get up and it will be okay.

Others get up on there own but take their time, all the while being patient and forgiving of themselves and others -usually these people have some good friends that they lean on for support and their inner strength shows through on a daily basis.

Some people jump right back up because they don't realize the gravity of what just happened to them. They just move on not realizing what just happened and never think too deeply about it.

And some people jump back up, look around and hope no one saw them fall. They tend to bruise deeply, needing time to understand and fully feel the pain.

It is the latter group in which I am most familiar with and since I can't resist a good analogy and am the writer of this blog, it is this group I will discuss.

These people fall down & jump back up. Not even sure how injured they are until they've walked around a bit. They walk tall when people are watching & limp when not observed.  They have internal bleeding that someone should fix, but they put a bandage on it so no one will see it. Sometimes they even get angry that no one notices how much they are in pain.  The gaping hole gets coverd with gauze & cosmetics and they gasp in pain when others look away. They smile good morning while clenching their teeth.  They do not allow others to see that they were hurt, that they are vulnerable. Especially if you were the one that pushed them down the stairs. They refuse to give you that satisfaction. Its a silly thing. Really. Now don't get me wrong, there are times we need to hold our guts in and carry on but usually we need to get somewhere where we can be sutured up.

My whole point to all of this is I have always resided in this group, which I'm sure you guessed. When my son died I could not contain it, I could not pretend I was okay. I could not move.  I relied heavily on these skills though when I was poked & prodded to find a "new normal." It was survival.  But I try really hard not to allow myself to revert to these ways as I realized the mistake in these ways. I realized I may have taught my son how to do this without meaning to. That it may have left him unable to reach out or know it was okay to be hurt and to show that hurt to others. That I taught him to hide it all but never how to process it. And I'm so injured. So devestated by his death and his loss of life. It feels like betrayal to not show that. Plus I do not want to miss opportunities ever again to tell people how much I love them or go out on a limb to tell people what they mean to me, or even to tell them they hurt me and affect me. That they do matter to me. That everything we do affects someone else. Never do I want to miss that opportunity again. I need to know I said what needed to be said and did not assume someone knew how I felt.

But sometimes old habits die hard.