You get used to it after a while- the gnawing frustration of constant damp; the cloud of 'wet dog smell' that envelops you; the nearly overwhelming desire to buy stock in waterproof gear companies.
You adapt, develop, buy your dog a raincoat and keep a hearty stock of air fresheners on hand.
The one thing that you never see coming, though, that you always forget to anticipate, is how the cold damp creates a treacherous version of lethal slip-and-slide. It's either the slick wet cobblestones; or the algae-bearing docks, walkways; or the piles of soaked leaves. And every now and then, it's the ice.
And here's the thing: I'm not the steadiest, most graceful person on the planet. I can pull it together teaching yoga and wow my groups with the ability to hold a tree pose whilst talking and waving my hands around. But then when I'm on my own, I'll fall out of dancer three times before getting her steady. I regularly run into doors, door frames, open cabinets (usually left open by me), anything that has a corner- my body is a study in bruises, a well-documented history of falls, scrapes, breaks, tears, and bends. I trip, I slip, I slide, I plummet.
And I live in the wettest corner of Norway.
And now, as though I have fast-forwarded decades, I have developed a fear of falling. Like, an almost paralyzing, certainly terrifying, fear of falling. I think about it in the mornings when I walk my dog over those docks and cobblestones. I think about it when I get vertigo going up or down our weird see-through-ultra-modern staircase. It's not an unfounded fear. A day before my husband left for two weeks in the US, I slipped while walking the dog and shredded my knee. For an impossibly long moment, I couldn't actually move my leg, my knee cracked, my calf resting the wrong way. And all I could think was... 'I don't have a phone, I live in a 4th floor walk up, I have a high energy animal, and my husband is leaving for two weeks.'
Then I started to cry. Then I got a grip, picked myself up and limped home.
But since then, it's only festered in me, this fear of falling. Fear of falling, basophobia, related-to-but-not-quite-vertigo. I literally imagine myself falling and breaking an arm or an ankle (again). I imagine myself hitting the ground with a sickening crack of the skull and bleeding all over wet pavement while my dog runs in circles around me.
Yeah, this is what I think about. Oh, and I never carry a phone with me when I go out- especially with the pup. This is going to sound ridiculous, especially since hardly anyone here calls or texts me, but I don't like the thought of being accessible all.the.time. I like time off from... everything. So I walk and run with only the dog and an iPod. Which means I fall and skid with only the dog and an iPod. With nothing that will allow me to call for help except my incredibly well-trained lungs. And a sad lack of language skills regarding Norwegian.
I know what you're thinking- 'this is an easy fix, Kate. Just carry a phone.... How is this even an issue?' But then you've got to check yourself and consider who this is, who I am. There's little-to-no change in sight on that front. Which is when you're allowed to go 'okay then, either get over the falling issue, or deal with it.'
Fine again.
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