I fell down the stairs

 I fell down the stairs, right in front of two boys.

Oh, the embarrassment.

But you know what I did?

I got up, with the help of one of them who stretched out his hand, amid sorrys and “are you okay?”s.

I was fine.

The only thing that probably took a hit was my ego.

I brushed it off and kept going.

The next day, I saw the same guys again.

I climbed the same stairs, and I’ve climbed them every day since.

And no, I haven’t fallen again.

Now this isn’t to brag about how sturdy my feet became or how kind those guys were.

It’s to remind you of how many times you fell and then refused to go back.

See, my feet didn’t become sturdier.

I still walk and run on those stairs.

What changed was this: I discovered exactly what made me trip.

It was my slippers.

Did I change them? Yes.

Did I stop taking the stairs? No.

Because you don’t need to stop trying something just because you failed once.

You only need to identify what caused the fall, the failure, the dent.

And even though people witnessed the fall, it doesn’t mean they can’t also witness the consistency, the growth, the trying again.

Those same guys still see me walk, and sometimes run up the stairs.

I got over the ego part and realized this:

they are not the main characters in my story.

I am.

And as much as I appreciate help, kindness, and support, none of it dictates how the rest of my story unfolds.

Don’t let shame and fear ruin the many chances life gives you.

Life is still open.

Life is still generous.

Life is still beautiful.

💜💜