I keep on moving with the lights off

I really, really do not like walking around my house without any lights on. I don’t even like walking across my bedroom without a lamp or something on if I can help it and I’ve done that thousands of times.

I just get so scared that I’ll trip or fall on something, and often when I panic all my muscles go stiff. This inn turn has a tendency of making me drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Not fun.

Continue reading “I keep on moving with the lights off”

That falling feeling

I often find that feeling like I’m going to fall over is worse than the actual hitting the ground part. Not always,  but sometimes.

I’d say that I manage to stop myself in time a lit more often than I do actually take a tumble. The fact I don’t hurt myself is great,  but so is that fear that I might fall and hurt myself.

Continue reading “That falling feeling”

The coffee table challenge

One of my stand-out memories of physiotherapy as a kid will always be the time that I had to walk across a coffee table independently. There was a point to it; it was so that I could get my agility badge at Brownies.

I remember being so surprised when I found out there was an adapted version for disabled people that the minute I came across it in my badge book with my grandma I decided that that would be the one that I wanted to earn next.

My heart sank when I saw that the above task was one of the things that I would have to do if I were to get it. The idea of having to walk on something that was raised about the ground with no one holding my hand really scared me (still does, if I’m honest) but mum insisted that it would be worth it.

We had a word with my physio at the time (who had to do the assessments and sign to say that I’d done everything I should) and they agreed to help. I still remember the sinking feeling in my stomach when mum pulled the offending table into the middle of the room and told me that that was the right length for the distance that I had to go. It only got worse when they helped me climb up.

I’d like to point out that at this moment I made matters worse for myself by standing still for ages arguing the toss about why this was a bad idea – when really if I’d have just shut up and got on with it, it would have been over much faster (ahhh, hindsight). I’m pretty sure I even told the therapist involved I’d never forgive them for putting me through it. I said that more than once back then. Whoopsie.

So anyways, after what felt like a very shakey first few steps I made it all the way to the other end and felt slightly amazed that I’d actually gone through with it and not backed out. I got cuddles from mum and I even managed to pass. The brown and yellow badge took pride of place on my sash for a bit. I don’t even remember what the other tasks were now. It didn’t really matter after that.

The reason I’m posting about this I guess is because I still regard this as quite a big achievement. I was afraid of doing something, but I did it anyway (and without falling over, no less!) I think that sometimes I forget to view the achievement in the little things and I don’t appreciate my success anywhere near enough. I think it’s time I started.

What have you done to make yourself proud lately?