Learning to Fall

It's hard to stare off the cliff...

I'm taking a break from Quotable Wednesdays because my stats on those posts are awful. Like nobody reads them. So rather than writing them every week, I'm going to just write them every once and a while on Wednesdays. Like maybe I'll just do them the first week of the month or something. We'll see.

This isn't the first time nor the last time that I've tried something that didn't work. I'm not perfect. I make lots of mistakes. I frequently fail at things. But I'm ok with that. If every time I tried something new it worked without a hitch, I'd never learn anything. Sometimes you have to fall in order to appreciate what you have and to learn to pick yourself back up.

When I was two, I started my first dance class. Yes, I've been dancing since I could walk. Anyway, one of the first things we learned to do was fall. From age two and up, I've had to know how to fall property, so that I wouldn't seriously hurt myself. It's a simple lesson (protect your head) but a hard one to come to terms with when you are instructed to nearly throw yourself on the ground. It's a lesson that I didn't think much about until I started some more advanced classes and I fell a lot more. It became a common sight to see me on the floor. I'm sort of a klutz (which you wouldn't expect from someone who's been in ballet classes practically all their life). However, after picking myself up, I'd do whatever move or sequence I was trying to master flawlessly. I'd learned my lesson and I was ready to go at it again.

My reunion with my first mother didn't go the way I wanted it to. It happens. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't mine, it was just a bad situation. Sometimes there is nothing you can do about it. We have to accept that, and pick ourselves back up. Knowing what I knew about my first attempt at reunion, I started a relationship with my first father. I was able to take what I learned and apply it the second time around. This time, things are a lot better (not perfect, but what relationship is?). I wouldn't say that it is just because I act differently, but my first father is a different person with different emotions. He didn't carry me for nine months in secret. His family viewed children born out of wedlock differently. He's more accepting because he was accepted, unlike my first mother who grew up a lot differently than he did and who had other issues to deal with.

I don’t like thinking about what would have happened if I didn't pick myself back up. I didn't need to reach out to my first father. I didn't have to trust him and give him time when he said he needed it. I didn't need to open myself up. I didn't have to forge a relationship with him that hopefully will last. We've been taking the time to build the foundation. I know we have a rocky path ahead. Right now it's just the two of us, but someday my sisters will be added into the mix. I'm hoping my first mother changes her mind about me. My extended family will learn about me someday. Those may or may not be good things for him. Only time will tell. But we have a solid foundation, or at least we are getting there.

But the thing is, the last paragraph wouldn't be there if I hadn't decided to try again. I put myself out there, got hurt, learned from it, and tried again for a much better result. It's always going to be a work in progress. And I'm always going to have hard times. It's a roller coaster after all. But hopefully I will always bounce back, to greater and higher peaks. So don't be afraid to try something new, to put yourself out there, or to build something that might fall down. You never know what could happen.