Woes Of Being Clumsy

It is a well-known fact to the people that know me that I am clumsy.

It’s got to the point where I have to declare it when I meet people just to break the ice. Not literally ‘break’ the ice, but something will probably (definitely) get broken with me around.

I don't know whether it would be better for me to accept it in the hope that it would become easier to control. I’ve tried to deny it! For years and years I have pretended that I am as safe as others around me but it is just too apparent that my clumsiness trumps all. So here I am admitting it! I am clumsy! Let me tell the whole world!

That was 6 months ago, and since I have smashed numerous items of crockery and glassware, so I think we can safely assume that denying it or not, it’s still there. I just have to accept that is part of who I am, an ingrained piece of my personality, neither good nor bad, merely frustrating at times.

Looking on the bright side though, it has taught me something. It has taught me how to limit my reactions to a situation and move on extremely quickly. For example, when I smash a glass at work, and oh my, how many shattered glasses have been caused by me, I now have the adopted the skill of efficiently moving on. I simply grab the brush pan and brush, sweep it up and continue like nothing has happened. I can't go back and change the past, but I can move on and accept it as soon as possible, in order to improve the near future.

 I didn't choose the clumsy life. The clumsy life chose me.

If you’re still in denial that I could seriously have a problem with severe clumsiness, so much so that I have a blog post dedicated to it, let me outline a few situations where I excelled above the average person:

                                                                                                                        

Whilst rushing out the door for work one day, I thought I’d put a bottle of cider in the fridge to drink when I got home. I was carrying the bottle by its neck with two fingers, and as I lowered it down into the bottom drawer of the fridge, I knocked it on a shelf, lost my grip on it and it fell less than a foot to the floor. It then exploded and shattered glass and sticky fruit cider spread like the plague over the entirety of our kitchen tiles. I attempted to mop it up but was late for work so I left a note on the tiles saying I’d clean it up later and rushed off, leaving sticky footprints behind me.

I work in a pub, and of course, I have smashed a million glasses in my time, averaging 3 a shift. But none quite as badly as this one time. It was live music night, and it was busy. I had been working for ages, so I was getting tired. Have I mentioned my clumsiness is worse when I’m tired? I was about to pour a glass of red wine for a customer, but as I lifted up the bottle of wine, my grip slipped and I managed to drop the wine bottle on top of the wine glass I was using, sending glass and red wine everywhere, and slicing numerous fingers of mine open. I got a mixture of blood and red wine splatters on my light blue shirt, meaning I looked like an axe murderer for the remainder of the shift, and was now sporting blue plasters on my wounds which covered 3 fingers on my left hand. Smooth.

When I was bit younger, we were on a canal boat holiday and as I jumped off the side of the boat, attempting to land on the bank, I lost my footing and fell into the canal between the boat and the bank. A lady we were holidaying with grabbed my life jacket and dragged me along with the boat, which was entering a lock. Luckily she managed to grab hold of me and pull me back on board before the lock was filled up, but that was not a high point of the holiday.

Another year, on a different canal boat holiday, myself, my brother and his friend were lying on the roof of the boat as we went under bridges, so that the bottom of the bridge was less than a foot away from our faces. A very exhilarating experience for a 9 year old. My brother and his friend were teasing each other by touching their feet on the bridge as we went under. And me, being the youngest who constantly wanted to fit in with the older kids, followed by example. Except of course, it wasn’t as easy as it looked and my foot got stuck on the bridge and subsequently my leg got pushed towards my face as we continued under the bridge, a range of flexibility I didn’t have, and eventually got diagnosed at A&E in Stafford

 which was the closest to where we were boating, I had ripped the cartilage in my knee. I then had to wear a full leg splint for months with crutches. Not my finest hour.

Other injuries I have inflicted upon myself include the time I was putting on a magic show for my brother when he was coming back from Cub Camp. I flicked my hair forward in order to put my cape on and whacked my head straight into a chair, splitting my head open. I still have that scar. Luckily it is just above my eye so my vision wasn’t affected but my eyebrow game has been significantly damaged. There’s an episode in Grey’s Anatomy where a girl has a blind spot in the centre of her vision and that’s what makes her clumsy, but unfortunately my vision is fine. I just have myself to blame for being clumsy.

Also, whilst racing my friend home on our bikes, I tried to mount a curb at too small an angle and my bike rebounded off the curb, threw me over the handle bars and I broke my wrist. I still can’t put any weight on that wrist to this day, although it has been getting better. Only my push ups suffer from that injury.

I drop things on a daily basis: my phone, people’s credit cards as I take payment at work, my food! We’ve had to replace the bowls we serve chips in at work as I have smashed so many of them. I’ve knocked over glasses of wine onto customers. I’ve tripped over dogs whilst trying to clear tables. I’ve over flowed drinks glasses by not paying attention. And arguably the worst, I have texted the wrong people about themselves. You name it, I’ve done it.

I could continue, but this blog post is long enough already.

I AM CLUMSY! Although considering how clumsy I am, I couldn't find any photos to prove it so please enjoy this badly photoshopped photo of my friend being clumsy, rather than me, for once.

Some of my clumsy instances are small and insignificant but 70% of the time it’s spectacular. I am just a very fast paced person and I want to do well so I try and push myself. But it backfires. A lot.

My brother used to use it as an insult. But you know what? It makes my life exciting to not know what I’m going to knock over next.