Time keeps on slippin'

I had an epiphany of sorts yesterday:  I’m not getting any younger.  This idea flashed through my head as I was falling off a ladder in my attempt to haul a heavy suitcase filled with summer clothes up to the attic.  Crumpled on the floor gasping for breath, another thought ran through my head:  I’m not getting stronger or more flexible as time passes, either.

With a prescription for painkillers with codeine and orders to rest for 48 hours (what?!  But I have sails to wash !) I’ve had time to reflect on my little accident and how it could have been avoided.  It was 50% bad luck (the ladder broke…) but also 50% bad judgement.  The luck I can’t do anything about, but the judgement needs some adjusting.  I knew, but failed to accept, that the suitcase was both too large and too heavy for me.  Patrick was away at the fateful moment and I was too impatient to wait.

Being a woman sailor, I’m always trying to prove to myself that I can physically handle anything alone on the boat.  There are always ways to manage sails and manoeuvres alone, even if you’re petite (I’m 5ft 4, 125 lbs / 1m63, 56 kg).  These manoeuvres may not be very elegant or fast, but in a pinch, I know I can handle almost anything alone.  But there’s the rub:  I need to learn when such bravado is necessary and be humble enough to ask for help when it’s not.

I can’t stand the image of myself as a frail little wisp of a woman, waiting patiently for my husband to come to my rescue, but after much reflection (and codeine), I've decided it’s a better image than the one where I’m black and blue and out-of-action for days or weeks.  Humble pie for Thanksgiving, me thinks.