A Good Crisis
or My Autumn Fall
“What you need is a good crisis!” This was advice I got long ago from a friend named Hillary. We had met for coffee and I was in the doldrums, feeling depressed and stuck. I expected her to give me spirit-soothing words of encouragement about my situation. After all, we were in a women’s support group together. So I was disappointed, to say the least, by her remark. To make it worse, she delivered it in her perky Yorkshire accent with a small but kindly chuckle. I’m afraid I didn’t take it very well. But her observation stayed with me through the years.
Her words came back to me last November when a Good Crisis sent me to the hospital. I’d had a very busy couple of months and looked forward to my first unscheduled day in a while. I stepped out onto our front porch to start my day. I inhaled the invigoratingly crisp early morning air. A thought floated up: “Ah a new day, I wonder what it will bring?” I got my answer right away. Walking down our front stairs to call in our dog Ruby, I stepped on a sneaky patch of ice lurking there. It was the only ice on the whole porch. In a blink, I was down, unable to move. Or breathe. Or make any sound to call for help.
As falls go, this was classic. It was one of those cartoon, ‘60s sitcom pratfalls, feet right out from under me, body suspended mid-air ending with an Olympian Big Finish on the sharp edges of the stairs. No one was around to see this, you’ll have to take my word for it. (Fun fact: the edge of a stair is called the “nosing”, and it is designed to prevent falling… except when it doesn’t.) Anyway, in a split second I was completely helpless. Looking back now, it was probably right where I needed to be. I wasn’t thinking that at the time.
Before my fateful fall, I was busy juggling the usual life details: dental appointments, house repairs, writing sessions. Earlier in the year, I’d had major surgery and had to take a couple of months out to recover. Now that I was on my feet again, I was anxious to get back to all those things I’d put on hold. Before long, I had picked up the habits that got me through the day: coffee, podcasts, hypnotic doomscrolling which I called “a break” and – of course, sugar to boost my dopamine-starved ADD brain. I squeezed in exercise by walking the dog.
Occasionally, friends mentioned the airplane oxygen mask example to me in passing. That’s such a good reminder, I’d murmur. But when you are hurtling through the day ticking things off your list, putting on the “oxygen masks” of healthy eating and proper rest get moved to the bottom of that list. And then they get shifted to the Tomorrow List. And finally they just disappear from the lists altogether.
So there I was laying on my front stairs, gasping for air and searching the sky for a possible passing plane to come to my rescue when this crystal clear thought came:
Putting myself first is mandatory, not optional.
I hobble-crawled up the stairs and into the house to collapse in the living room. Somehow I got enough breath to bleat out a cry for help. My son heard, came downstairs and dialled 911. I wheezed out our address to the dispatcher and told him I’d had an accident and needed help.
Help arrived quickly as paramedics Kate and Nate (yes, really) entered the house followed by a very tall man they introduced as “The Boss”. The team checked me over, got my story and carefully loaded me into their ambulance in record time. They were great. A tip: If you are going to have an accident that requires the attention of first responders, do it at the start of the day. You will probably get a new shift, and they’ll be fresh as daisies and ready to rock. The Boss and his team were all that.
The ambulance ride got me a speedy admission to Emergency and a spot in a hallway optimistically labeled “Fast Track”. It wasn’t. Five hours later a harried technician called my name, and within two minutes had looked over my paperwork, x-rayed my injured back and deposited me back in the hallway. An hour later, an overworked doctor with kind eyes reviewed my x-rays and discharged me with the Good News: “Nothing is broken. You can go home.” The Bad News? It would take far longer than I ever imagined and several therapies for my back to heal. And it would never be the same again.
Hillary wasn’t wrong about crisis. I’ve had my share over the years. And each one refocuses my understanding of who I am and what really matters. Crisis brings pain and discomfort. I’m not a fan of either. But by now I know this: no matter how deeply that pain runs, eventually it softens and settles inside me. And rearranges me; it makes me more human. In crisis, I am always given courage I didn’t know I had. I become vulnerable. I have to ask for help. None of it is easy. Would I have preferred to have my epiphanies during a bubble bath with soft music playing? Of course. But I’m just not wired up that way. It’s usually the upheaval of a crisis that gets my attention and makes me examine my life.
Today I’ll find time to check in with myself and get what I need - a glass of water or a walk or a nap. I’ll do it imperfectly. And I am ok with that. It’s likely I have another “Good Crisis” or two ahead of me. Though it would be great if I didn’t have to injure myself in the process. This November, I’ll watch the stairs for ice and pay closer attention to what’s important in life.
This the link to the photographer whose work I used for this post. Check out her work at the link below and give her a “like” If you can.
https://unsplash.com/@elsbethcat
I’m hoping this post explains a bit about my radio silence on Substack over the past months. In that time, I’ve done a bit of writing, a lot of reading and recently trained to facilitate writing groups with Amherst Writers and Artists. Will post more in the next few weeks on a writing group I have in the works. Check out AWA here.
https://amherstwriters.org
It is a unique way of writing and listening to others work. I love it the AWA process. And taking their teacher training recharged my creative battery.
My goal now is to post something here every couple of weeks. Thanks for your patience as I adjust to taking things a bit slower and prioritizing my health.
Here are some thoughts and posts on writing “A Good Crisis”
“Kill Your Darlings” Like many writers, I remove a good chunk of material from first to final draft as I edit and rewrite . Often this means deleting some of my favourite phrases (my “darlings”), when they don’t add to a piece. I save all my “Darlings” in a document labelled Outtakes. ( Maybe I’ll publish it someday - who knows, there may be a wonderful poem just hiding in there!) The phrase “Kill Your Darlings” has been attributed to many writers over the years but here is a link that traces its origins. I think it’s pretty reliable. (Sorry, you’ll have to copy and paste this one)
https://slate.com/culture/2013/10/kill-your-darlings-writing-advice-what-writer-really-said-to-murder-your-babies.html?utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=traffic&utm_source=article&utm_content=copy_link
On Becoming More Human:
At one point, while thinking about how adversity makes me more real, I went down this rabbit hole (sorry, had to), and reread this classic children’s book. It was a favourite at our house when my son was very young.
from “The Velveteen Rabbit” by Marjorie Williams Bianco
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
― Margery Williams Bianco, The Velveteen Rabbit
Here’s the link to the page that came from:
https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1602074-the-velveteen-rabbit
A Good Pratfall:
While the pratfall I wrote about was a nasty accident, I learned how to do them on purpose when I was an actor. They were so much fun! Done well, a professional pratfall is a work of art, almost like a dance. Lots of planning and rehearsal goes into them. (Skip these links if you are not a fan of slapstick. : ). If you are, here are some great ones:
Buster Keaton, one of the greats (with a Punjabi soundtrack????)
Cary Grant:
https://tenor.com/en-CA/view/cary-grant-falls-on-chair-the-awful-truth-gif-8440156
My first idol, Carol Burnett:
And of course, Kramer from the ‘90s (never subtle!):