I originally wrote this post in 2019 for an old and now retired blog.
I’m not sure how its nearly eight months since I last posted. I started a Masters in Research in September and had to learn a whole new way of writing; everything meticulously referenced and using fancy words ending in “ology” like ontology, epistemology and methodology. Turns out I’m actually pretty good at it but it is hard to swap back and forth between that and blogging which reflects my natural verbal speech patterns and tendency to make up words.
But I wanted to get down in writing a thing that happened and the effect it had on me. And I wanted to write in my usual way. With plenty of alliteration and creative phrasing. And a distinct lack of either Harvard referencing or correct punctuation.
Last month I fell over.
My overdramatic tip, skip n flip didn’t result from any kind of extreme sport; from a slip on ice or trip over an large obstacle. I was just walking along a busy pavement (happily pondering a health and wellbeing workshop I’d just given to some exhausted looking trainee teachers) when I did some kind of slow motion stumble, stagger and swoop towards the ground; spraining my ankle, creating large and bloody holes in my knee and elbow, jarring my wrist and shoulder and still managing to end up on my back with my feet in the air in the process.
I posted about this on Instagram and many of the (sympathetic) comments and DMs that came back included “that’s so you”, “you haven’t changed”, “only you!” And its true. People who have known me over the years have been there for me when I’ve been hit by cars (five times, luckily no serious incidents), knocked myself unconscious walking into walls; fallen off pavements and tripped over my own feet.
And why? Because I forgot to concentrate on walking in a straight line. Maybe I let my mind wander or something caught my eye; perhaps I misjudged a distance or the speed of an oncoming car. Probably I was listening to someone talk and that took away from the focus I needed to pick one foot up and put it in front of the other.
I’ve been told often that I have a characteristically determined walk and it has taken until recently to realise why. I am consciously reminding myself how to walk most of the time I am walking. Straight back, look ahead, swing my legs from the hips, keep it fluid, feet up… no not that much, look ahead, don’t swerve into that person… stick to the left left! Smile! FEET UP dammit they said hello, smile, say hello, straight back breathe…. it’s ok you can stop smiling now they’ve gone past, swing my legs from the hips, feet up, back straight…
If I’m walking or even running somewhere quiet, along paths that I know well, where there are no people and their sodding “it’s ok, he just wants to say hello” dogs then I’m fine. I can go all zen-like; or even go into a slow-mo Matrix mindset style, avoiding holes or rocks with ease and walking in a perfectly straight line. Or if I’m chatting with someone who knows to grab my arm every so often when I stumble and wait for me to recalibrate which way is up; that’s ok too. More than ok in fact. It feels really good to walk like this. Like I’ve activated some kinda cool superpower. Look at Flo, walking without constant instruction – how does even she do that?!
But I am wondering if other people get this too. If there are others using up valuable cognitive energy talking to themselves like they would to a child riding a bike for the first time. I’m not suggesting I’d be learning multiple foreign languages, composing symphonies or pondering complex equations (or indeed any equations) but I wonder what it might be like not to have to maintain that constant stream of instructions getting safely from A to B. What might that feel like?
p.s. the featured photo is not me. It’s a stock photo. But that’s kinda how it all went down…
p.p.s since writing this post I’ve done a bit of digging and am pretty sure that I am dyspraxic