Sidewalk Holes

There's A Hole In My Sidewalk
Autobiographical in Five Short Chapters
by Portia Nelson

Chapter 1
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost...I am helpless.
It isn't my faulf.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it there.
I still fallin...it's a habit...but my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault. I get out immediately.

Chapter 4
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5
I walk down another street.

A close friend handed this sheet to me earlier today, and I couldn't seem to get it off my mind. Throughout my recovery, I have done anything and everything I can/could do to NOT get angry about the circumstances surrounding the accident.

Because deep down, I know and accept the fact that it WAS an accident.

I certainly didn't want a gigantic swam of bugs/gnats and God-knows-what else to riccochet off mine and Elizabeth's helmet as we were riding down Torry PInes.

I certainly didn't want to crash into Liz, flip off my bike, breakk my sacrum, and suffer subsequent nerve damage.

And I most vehemently did NOT want to miss out half my season because of this accident.

And while (thus far) I've been overwhelmingly positive about the accident and the circumstances surrounding it, today - for the first time in 10 weeks and 3 days (not that I'm counting) - I got mad.

I cried.

I threw the remote across the room (something I watched -to my horror - my sister do 12 years ago - and vowed NEVER to do).

I yelled.

I screamed.

And then I hopped in the shower, sat down, and had a good cry. I let it all out - the anger, the fear, the frustration - the everyone telling me that I cant...

And you know what? I feel better for it. No longer am I internalizing my anger, keeping my hidden sadness bottled up inside. Instead I let it out. I fought back against the apartment owners who said my trainer was disturbing the new neighbor's below. And I am prepared to fight my physical therapist about my lack of hamstring strength.

Who are they to give me another excuse that I can't. If they are unable to come up with something, I've got a few ideas of my own up my sleeve - and no longer am I afraid to use them. I know by body well enough: if I canhandle a Jen Harrison workout for 3+ hours on the trainer, I can handle just about anything.

Trust me.

And I've come to realize that anger is a natural emotion. It is part of the healing process. Hell, it's part of MY healing process.

And like the aforementioned poem states - there's a hole in the sidewalk and I fall in. It is NOT my fault. And again. And (even) again. But eventually I'll learn how to navigate through the hole and eventually around the flipping thing.

And one day, I'll walk down a different street all together.

Until then, I keep moving forward, determined to acknoledge my anger and furstration that I've kept bottled up inside for so long. But I still realize that I can NOT help what happened, only how I choose to respond.

And with extra knowledge gained, I'll be that much stronger, fiercer, and ready to return in full force. It just may be a while as I'm finding my way out of a hole.