Falling isn’t the same as Failing

Four weeks ago, I broke my arm. Like every good injury, there’s a story behind it. Unlike a lot of injuries though, this one actually has two stories behind it. Because it started with a book: The Summer of Yes by Courtney Walsh.

If you haven’t read The Summer of Yes, you should. It’s amazing. Six stars, easily, out of five.

It’s about a woman who, after a pretty serious car accident, wakes up in hospital to find she’s not happy with her life. It’s safe, perfect, good, well-paying, and everything she aspired to, but not truly living. She’s closed herself off—and she doesn’t want that anymore. Long story (very very) short, she decides to embark on a ‘Summer of Yes’, where she stops automatically saying no to things out of fear or uncertainty or second-guessing and starts just saying yes. Taking the adventure. Taking the risk.

You might be starting to guess how this book played into my broken arm.

And if you guessed I said yes to something, inspired by the book, you’d be right. I did.

See, like Kelsey in The Summer of Yes, I’m pretty accustomed to saying no and living ‘safe’. A lot of that is tied into having a chronic disease and being forced to be careful lest I injure a joint or stress sends my body into a flareup, but it’s also a personality thing. I don’t like failure, think way too much about what others think of me, hate to let others down (in the way that if I’ve promised something or have a responsibility, I’ll do it if it kills me), and hate feeling out of control.

I’m careful, tend to only take calculated risks, and think through decisions and their repercussions because I have to. Because I want to be there for my kids and family. I want to be someone who’s reliable. Who people can count on. And I really, really don’t like being sick or out of commission.

But every now and then, I throw all that out the window. I take a risk, do something that makes no sense, maybe even knowing it will hurt me, because I need to. To remind myself that life is meant to be lived. Even if it hurts. Even if I fail. I don’t want to get to the end of my life safe and sound, but having missed out on living and all the experiences that come with it. Especially when it comes to family and the amazing people in my life.

So, when a good friend asked if I wanted to have a go on their electric scooter (a couple of days after I finished the book and was still very much thinking on it), I said yes.

To most people, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Especially as we were in an empty park on the flattest possible footpath and the scooter was very limited in how fast it could go.

For me, who can’t ride a bike, and has fairly pathetic balance and coordination at the best of times, it was a big yes. I took a risk. I knew I might fall. I also knew I might look incredibly stupid. But I said yes anyway because I wanted to. I’ve wondered for years what it would be like to ride one.

I tried a few circles around a basketball court to get the hang of it, then headed off down the path. It was wide, and flat, and open, so I went a bit faster. Just to prove to myself that I could do this. Something as normal and simple as riding a scooter at the park on a weekend. Could be cool like my friend and kids who were out skateboarding and wasn’t just that boring mum who always did what was expected and safe.

Then in a split second, I lost my balance, forgot where the brakes were, put my foot on the ground to stop myself (total rookie move, I know), and slammed into the concrete. Fortunately, the scooter was fine (phew! Biggest relief!!). Unfortunately, I came away with a broken arm, badly bruised hand, foot and ribs, and some pretty extensive grazes. Oh, and a mild concussion which got me banned from screens for a week. Go me. Thankfully, they’re all now either healed or well on their way to being so.

It would be easy to think I’d failed, and a number of people (doctors especially) have commented that I probably shouldn’t try that again. I won’t. It was only ever going to be a one-off anyway. But I don’t feel like I failed, nor do I regret saying yes. Not at all.

See, I took a risk. I said yes to something that scared me, even knowing it might end badly. Obviously, I didn’t plan to break my arm and injure myself but I knew there was a chance of falling. While I greatly regret the impact my being injured and out of commission for a couple of weeks had on my family, I’m proud of the fact that I had a go.

I fell, yes, but I didn’t fail.

I think sometimes we need to be reminded that the two things aren’t the same. I certainly do.

There’s a scene in The Summer of Yes that talks about doing things just for the fun of it. Not because you’ll be good at it, or even because you’ll succeed, but just because. I loved that. I’m trying to teach my kids that being good at something comes with practice but so often forget it myself. I mean, adults are supposed to just be good at things, right? Learning is for kids. (Insert much sarcasm here…)

It’s hard for me to give myself permission to be ‘bad’ at something, but I’m learning. Learning that not everything I do has to be perfect. That I don’t have to be brilliant the instant I pick up a new skill, and likely won’t be. That it’s okay to try something I know I’ll be bad at (scooters come to mind…). That, like my kids, I’m still learning. They’re learning musical instruments and new languages and mathematical equations. I’m learning to let go, to be bad at things, to take risks. To fall. Maybe they’d be more patient with their learning if they saw I was with myself too. Maybe it’s good for them to see me fall.

It’s a journey, but one I’m grateful to be on.

Takeaways from this?

Read The Summer of Yes. It’s a brilliant book.
Falling isn’t the same as failing.
Scooters are not for Hannah. (We’ll add skateboards, roller blades and bikes to that list too)
“Life can’t be lived in reverse.” (The Summer of Yes, Courtney Walsh) Live it today. Say yes.