Sea Legs
Posted: January 18, 2010 Filed under: Writers Write | Tags: balance, compensation, dizzy, perception, Trusting Your Instincts, vertigo Leave a comment »I didn’t eat this morning. Instead, I got up on a ladder and felt the world drop out from under me. My balance is not what it used to be–not even close. Once, I was the girl standing at the top of the ladder, fearlesssly holding on with my calves digging into the risers, a bucket of paint in one hand a brush in the other. Like the speaker in Robert Frost’s “After Apple Picking”
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
No more. I am wobbly. The world spins in a motion I can’t predict or identify. Once I’m steady, it does a change up. Like an NBA guard cutting around his opponent then switching directions. It fakes me out and scores over my head. So, I come down from the ladder and sit.
I like to think I have a sort of inner stability that comes with maturity–an emotional balance–a sense of the digital replacing the analog that once allowed me to stand at the edge of a precipice without diving over. Maybe I had to lose one to gain the other?
Not In Charge
Posted: May 18, 2008 Filed under: Housekeeping, Joined at the Heart, Writers Write | Tags: asking for help, balance, vertigo Leave a comment »My family panics every time I pick up a knife to chop a salad. This week has made me humble. No task is easy. Every action must be focused and deliberate. Walking through WalMart yesterday, I was overwhelmed by stimuli: buzzing lights, muzak, my girls pulling random hair accessories off the rack and announcing, “I need this Mama.”
Let me explain. I’m always in charge. I’m the mom. I’m the Type A, to-the-point, fix-it-now girl. I find myself in the position of allowing depending on others to do stuff for me. BBC2 and Cookie Crisp are here to help. So far, I’ve eaten a gourmet dessert at every meal, had my kitchen cabinets painted, and been the recipient of a new garden gate. All of this happened while I sat on the couch or the patio or at the kitchen table. (It’s great work if you can get it.) It’s as if a whole team of Santa’s elves arrived to pick up the pieces of my world.
I’m grateful. I can’t overstate that. I’ve been blessed, but I’m also a blank slate. I have no view of what might be next. I feel stupid because I’ve never had an accurate view of what’s next. I only thought I did.
I can’t predict or control the outcome of this day. A loss of balance has put me in my place.
