I fall. Sometimes every week, sometimes not for months. It depends on two things: sleep and exercise. The problem is that I, like 30% of Canadian women, suffer from insomnia. Poor sleep prevents me from exercising, which is what helps me feel strong and walk better.
When my foot doesn’t lift properly (‘foot-drop’ is an MS thing) my toe catches on something and down I go. There’s a primal scream followed by a sickening thud—at least, that’s how my husband describes it. I feel bad for being helpless. Every time I fall, he and our daughter are traumatized.
To me, it’s all surreal, in slow motion. As I’m going down, I realize it's not stoppable. My body instinctively lets go. It’s a sort of surrender. No room scares me more than our bathroom, with its sharp corners, hard tiles and ceramic floor. Last week I fell in there for the first time, but besides some aches and pains there was no real damage. I wonder if perhaps that instinct made me less prone to injury.
It made me think about letting-go. My clients want to let go of anger, worry, self-doubt, putting themselves last… They learn to let go of the habits that undermine what they really want.
It’s hard work. I have to keep up my strict diet and vigorous exercise regime. It’s frustrating —especially when momentum’s constantly interrupted.
That’s when I think about the people who come with their insurmountable challenges. I’m always awed by the enormous courage it takes to confront your own struggle, but together we do great work and they accomplish their goals.
So I too can let-go of the urge to quit the fight and—like the Sinatra song, I get back up, dust myself off, and start all over again.