Like a Superhero, She Fell

Unlike this dark and rainy day, the sun shone with promise, and a fresh crisp bite was found in the air as she climbed the ladder that would set her on a path she didn’t anticipate, one not welcomed nor anticipated, one that would change everything.

A bit of attitude and a whole lot of “let’s just get this done” may have been coursing through her blood that September morning; pressure washer in one hand, ladder rung in the other- reaching five feet over the earth. A split second, an uncertain movement and a ‘knowing’ coursed through her being.

Arms stretched before her, like a superhero,  but face first in the dirt, spiders and ants crawling all over her brokenness she worked to keep the ‘knowing’  at bay and consciousness at hand while moaning and kicking the dirt beneath her,  “no, no no.”

Her husband ran to her, trying to get her upright again- an impossibility as the bones rolled and shifted inside, loosely encased only by the flesh of her arm- this moment changed everything. The neighbor trying to keep her conscious, the ambulance that just wouldn’t come, the EMT’s lifting her despite the inner wreckage, the reality of this new inconvenience beginning to settle in.

One massive bone, the humerus and 7+ fractures later- such unfathomable pain, such unfathomable fear, and vulnerability- all unwelcome, all immediately life altering.

Dependency changes everything for some of us.  In the daily life; the folding laundry, washing dishes, making supper, sweeping the floor, taking a shower, sleeping in your bed. Physical dependency makes you vulnerable. Solitude makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability is tricky to negotiate when self sufficiency has been mounted on a pedestal and properly lighted for far too long.

What is it about dependency that rips at the soul of who we are or who we long to be?  Why is it that even when we try so hard to at least be vulnerable with our spouse, there is nothing like the vulnerability of being unable to do “your part”, that reduces you to a weeping mess of emotional dependency night after night after night.

And take away “Mama”, have her writhing in pain and fear of more pain, have her not really present on pain killers, have her unable to rock her baby to sleep, or stay awake to hear of the first days of school, and the vulnerability of labels being ripped untimely from the descriptor you call yourself leaves you smarting.

And friendships, how often do we dare to be vulnerable with our needs, how impossible is it to let our friends into our real mess and sit with us for awhile, fold our laundry for awhile, wash our dishes, see it as it really is, see me as I really am?

So where does all this leave this superhero one year later? Fallen. Broken. Changed. Unsatisfied to go back to the certainty of self sufficiency, unsure of the courage it takes for vulnerability and even dependency with a few,  but desperate to be marked by the experience. As my humerus recreates itself,  I pray so does my soul.