As a child, I skipped the stage of learning how to ride a bike or a scooter or, well, anything with wheels. I don’t entirely remember why this was. There were a few attempts with riding a bike and a skateboard, but I never stuck with it.
Now, as a young adult, I feel as though I missed out on something extremely important. Especially since I have friends that think riding a scooter around the city is a SUPER FUN activity.
Slightly terrified, I tried it. It didn’t go too well. As usual, my head got the best of me. I managed to go for a few seconds at a time, but that was about as good as it got before I would panic. A fear a losing control forced me to put my foot on the ground, so I would stop.
It wasn’t until a few days later that I realized what my actual problem was.
I didn’t want to fall.
I know how irrational it is. It’s not like I had that far to go down. It’s not like I was actually going to get injured. But it wasn’t about the physical consequences of falling; it was about the emotional and mental consequences. It was about the loss of pride in not being in control and falling down.
My friend kept saying, “Trust yourself. Get out of your head and trust that you can do this.”
I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk the consequences of falling.
Now, I realize this is slightly dramatic. I mean, it was just a scooter after all. However, upon reflection, that scooter represents so much more.
I’ve always avoided things where I felt as though I could fall, whether literally or metaphorically. I’m not talking about those times when I jumped into something headfirst. Jumping is different. Jumping is a choice; I am prepared. I know what I am getting myself into.
But falling…there are so many things that could happen. So many things I am not prepared for. So many things that could go wrong.
I have missed out on many things throughout my life, because of this compulsive need to be in control—to be prepared for anything that could happen. I rationalized it. I said that I wasn’t really missing out on much, that I was making the smarter, safer choice.
In reality, I was just teaching myself to only take calculated risks. I only moved forward if I could see at least 10 steps ahead.
No matter how much I tell myself that I can figure out and prepare for all possible outcomes… I can’t. I can’t anticipate every little thing that could happen. And some part of me has always known that, so to compensate, I just wouldn’t DO anything. Hence the never learning how to ride a bike. Or a scooter.
That day, my friend showed me that, not only am I capable of picking myself up when I fall, but more importantly, that I won’t have to do it alone.