Something amazing happens when you fall off a ladder. It can go one of two ways:
- You give into fear and it doesn’t end so well.
- You choose to fight and you end up living.
As I felt the ladder fall out from under me, I knew I had to protect my head from hitting the cement at all costs. I didn’t want my best friend and emergency contact to find me dead on the garage floor. Yes, that was the thought process.
I don’t remember much else. I don’t remember hitting the heavy duty metal shelving, which miraculously broke my fall and saved my life. I don’t remember hitting the ground. I don’t think I lost conciousness, but I’m not positive.
I do remember laying there, with my head tucked forward, realizing I was alive. I had not hit my head in the cement. I got up, assessed for injuries, and called my boss to tell her I’d be late. I didn’t realize until later that my head had crashed into the shelving.
It took about a week to realize, I could easily be dead. People fall off ladders and die. I had not. I had instinctively chosen to fight and to live. I am still amazed. I have always heard how the fight or flight thing works. I’d never experienced it.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. The whole experience has been life changing. Being forced to slow down has been a good thing. Doing one thing at a time has brought me a bit of focus. I no longer take anything for granted. I seem to say, “Life is too short…” at least once a day.
Life can change on a dime. The life we live is a choice. We are responsible for our own life experience. Personal responsibility.
I have chosen to be positive. I have chosen to find something to be thankful for every day. I have chosen to live with intention. Purpose. To make a positive difference.
As I was going through this metamorphosis, my mother was choosing to stop fighting. Stop living. Her passing has only solidified my choices. We all make choices.
I choose life. It may not always be easy. It may not always be fun and exciting. But it’s my life, and I am the navigator.