I'm standing at the top of a steep flight of stairs. I've got my hair done. My eyeshadow matches my shoes - which are hot, but ridiculously high. I take a step, then another. I stop for some reason and as I do, I lose my footing and begin a fall from which recovery is nearly impossible. I don't know how many stairs I'll hit on the way down, or if I'll just free fall until I reach the bottom. But I do get the sense I'm about to hit bottom and I'm bracing myself because I've travelled this road before and remember the experience as being both humiliating and painful.
I'll admit that I'm a bit of a drama queen so I tend to take these falls in a very dramatic, often public way. But there is a point - sometime after I pray for death - when I can detect a shift and something gives away or just stops and I can see that all my pain and suffering has had a purpose. This is often when something really cool happens and I can somehow peel myself off the floor and do it all again.
I've taken these falls a whole bunch of times. Enough to recognize the signs and maybe even admit some parts are funny or wisdom-making. At least the makings for some decent story-telling.
The great thing about having the "universe" kick the shit out of me is that I no longer feel the need to protect my pride or preserve my ego. There's no point. I know how this is going to go and the longer I hold on to that stuff, the more painful this is all going to be. So, I've decided to document my fall as honestly and insightfully as possible. I am also going to use this opportunity to ask for the impressions of those around me and maybe give some suggestions for how one might ride the shit wave with grace and humour.
All by the skin of my teeth
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