On Friday, I took the dog for a walk, slipped on the ice, and landed on my head. I’m not sure how I managed to bypass the cushioning of my butt and land on my head instead, but I did. I landed on my head, and my head bounced.
I wish I had a video. I’m sure it would be stunning. Instead, I have a concussion, and apparently it’s a bad one.
I’m not supposed to think too much. My bruised brain needs a rest. My husband says it’s like trying to run a marathon with a broken leg. I get the metaphor — heck, I love metaphors — but I think I might rather have the broken leg. All I do is think. And write. And read. Now, my vision bounces on the page, making word soup, a letter jumble.
Rest my brain? This is where I live. But I’m guessing there’s a lesson here. Maybe about sitting quietly. Relying on other resources. Letting go. These are not lessons that I learn easily, not ones that I embrace.
I have revisions to do, stories to write, but now language makes me nauseous, dizzy. The computer screen is wonky. I’ve been working on this post for days, in jagged pieces, slivers of time, stealing it out in fragments. Silly, but I cannot seem to help it.
My daughters distract me with puzzles and Legos and picture books. They let me braid their dolls’ hair. Rainbow Girl makes me an origami star box and leaves it on my bedside table, the first sight when I wake.
I have a lot to learn. About letting go. Slowing down. Finding other paths when the one I’m on gets blocked. In the picture above, the ice is beautiful, but the cave it forms is ominous and dark. What’s inside, I wonder? A story of course, filled with quirks like ice. Like falling. And the struggle to get up again.
Have you ever had a concussion, or some other injury that kept you out of your comfort zone? Please share your tips for getting through the slippery patches.