Here I am on the rocks at Makara Beach near Wellington in New Zealand.
We came out here for a day trip. Mr D’s Dad has a bach out there and he goes out most weeekends to sit on the deck and watch the world go by. It goes by pretty slowly. There’s not much there but ricks, wind swept grass, shingle and rocks. Lots of rocks. Mr D has been coming out here all hs life, the first time as a small babe in arms. He’s brought all his children out too, and yesterday I took my twins.
It was a perfect Spring day and we carried our bags along the beach towards the little house. I find it hard to walk along the beach. I find that because i need to think about it it’s better for my legs and feet, but I still struggle on the uneven, moving surface. Once there we unpacked our bags and after lunch we decided to go for a walk along the beachfront. The tide was high but receding fast. Soon there would be rock pools to explore and small creatures to be discovered.
I was hesitant along the rocks. I was beginning to feel an ache in my left leg, and a still small voice was beginning to talk to me. I do not like the still small voice. It installs doubts inside me, it makes me scared. I don’t like being scared.
Not quite She-Ra but I’m working on it.
But the voice speaks to me in a subtle voice. “You have a disease. It’s real. It’s creeping up on you, you know. It affects your balance. You could fall. Are you sure your leg is as strong as you think it is? Look at those rough, uneven razor-sharp rocks. What makes you think YOU can get over them? Are you sure of your footing? Certain you can make that jump? Even if you did, how can you know you’ll not stumble and tear your hands or worse, hit your head on those rocks?”
On and on it went. Stirring fear within me. Then I looked around me. The scenery was beautiful. Rugged, wild and stunning. Everything I’d ever hoped New Zealand would be, right there in front of me. My children were literally skipping from rock to rock, not a care in the world. I often complain I suffer from “Mum vision.’ where you see every little tiny thing that could go wrong. Yet… there they were, leaping around like little goats, sure-footed and happy. Brimming with confidence.
I stood back up and slotted my walking-pole down my jersey neck-hole down my back, as if it were some broadsword. I can walk perfectly well, I don’t need to rely on a pole. It was just getting in the way, making me feel strange. I began to move around a little, testing how the rocks felt beneath my feet. I followed the children to the edge of a rock-pool and hesitated. I’d need to jump across a gap. I would have to get it right. I paused. Then took a deep breath and muttered under my breath “you can do this!” I leapt. I landed well. I smiled to myself. Looking up I saw young teenager Mr R regarding me with a wry grin. He’d seen it all. I laughed.
The rest of the afternoon felt so much better. I was so much more confident because I’d given myself permission to give it a go. Too many people use aging / sickeness / ailments as an excuse to stay put. “Oh I can’t do that. I’m too old. I might fall.” You never know if you never try.
What’s inside? Lots of seawater, clearly. And rocks.
Never stop trying. Don’t give in. The moment you give in you’re sliding down the greasy slide to oblivion. Parkinson’s won’t hold back, neither should you. Climb every mountain, ford every stream, jump across the rocks and while you’re at it, sing like nobody can hear you.
The voices were silent as I inwardly rejoiced. Take that, Parkinson’s.
Until next time, Kitty.
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Kiity Fitton – usually up to mischief.
Kitty Fitton is a motivational speaker, MC and comedian. She is also a full-time blogger and writer. She is mother to four small people and was very cross to discover she had Parkinson’s Disease.
Find out more at her personal site below.
Emma Kyriacou. Quite good at hitting things.
Emma Kyriacou is a real-life ninja. Taking up Karate to help fight her Parkinson’s Disease, she’s co-founder of Good Moves and is passionate about promoting exercise to improve mobility and neuroplasticity. (Is that a word? It should be.)
Find out more at her personal site below.
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