Broken Arms, Boards, and Busses.

Sometimes, life is a question of perspective. Last week I broke my elbow. To be precise, I received a fractured radial head, when falling off my skateboard. Yes, falling off my skateboard. "No sympathy!" I hear you cry. And that's fine. I'm not after your sympathy. I haven't been surprised at the somewhat unsympathetic response I've received; the tuts, the suggestions that it's time the board went into the attic, the occasional comment about my age. No, I'm not sixteen anymore. Yes, that's me in the photo (seconds before said fall).

But then, that get's one thinking. What broken bone IS worthy of sympathy? What if I had just been walking in the street? Should have been paying more attention? While at the Minor Injuries Unit getting my X-ray, I was surrounded by lads in off the rugby and football field. Is it ok if the injury occurred during more "organised" sporting activities? I broke my elbow playing with my kid. Why should I "know better"? Better than what exactly? I was skateboarding. I enjoy skateboarding. I'm not very good at it. But then, I'm not very good in the water. That doesn't stop me kayaking and surfing. My French sucks, but when in France, I try to communicate in the local language. Why should we criticise people for trying and not succeeding? For the record, this is the only bone I've ever broken by falling (off anything) in forty years. I don't think that's a bad statistic.

When asked about my injury, I have been honest every time. Yet nine times out of ten, the response has been politely derogatory (with the occasional open disapproval).

Don't get me wrong, it hasn't all been negative commentary. I've had heart-warming offers of help from friends and family. But therein lies another interesting observation. The level of concern has been overwhelming and emotive. My friends greet me with a frowned "How are you?" and seem quite taken aback when I reply with a happy smile. Because the truth is, while it is a tad painful, I'm quite enjoying this experience.

I know, on the surface, that might sound quite bizarre. But this brings me to my first point; sometimes, life really does come down to perspective. In an average week, my life is, like most, pretty routine. I alternate my working week between my home office and my therapy room at Yoga Place Abertawe, making the five minute journey by car, some times several times a day. Intersperse this with the usual chores, dog walks, and that about sums it up.

When we have an unexpected, unplanned change in routine, it can throw us off-kilter. We are innately predisposed to find the familiar comforting, and to be cautious of the unfamiliar. By our nature , we develop habits. We feel, subconsciously, that if we have been doing something for a while, it must be "right". Change requires giving up the familiar (what's "right"), and experiencing the unfamiliar (subconsciously, what's "wrong"). This is the primary cause of our discomfort at change.

However, what if we (I) were to look at the change in a different light? What if we were to look at perceived difficulties, instead, as a challenge? Let me give you one example I experienced. As you now know, I have broken my elbow. This means, among other things, that I cannot drive. So, that once simple, five minute commute to work had suddenly become a tad more tricky. I am faced with establishing my options; I could walk, blag lifts, get taxis, or catch a bus. Walking, usually a happy option, doesn't appeal, with my aching arm. Taxis just seem a bit too easy. I already have lots of people offering to ferry me about (thank you), but decide to keep that card for emergencies. So, it's on the bus for me.

Now, I haven't been a regular bus user since I was a student. Back then, it took two busses to get get to university, so I was very clued up on the bus service. And that's the thing about public transport; it's easy to negotiate when you do it regularly, but for the occasional bus-user, it can be a bit of a puzzle. There are timetables to get your head around, bus numbers heading to the same destination but via different routes, and ticket types to weigh up. The stops have colloquial names that you need to know, or will spend awkward moments trying to explain to the driver the exact stop you need (if you ever need to bus to Yoga Place Abertawe, by the way, it's "The Mond", Clydach).

I was out of the loop, and a tad daunted. But I like a challenge, and a challenge it was. With a purse full of coins, I set off to the bus stop. The bus arrived, I boarded, requested the destination... and balked at the price. It turns out, it's cheaper to ride around swansea all day, than take a five minute trip (and back). Still, it's cheaper than a taxi... probably...

I know that in the big scheme of things, having to catch a bus is no great hardship, but I won't lie, at the end of the day I felt very satisfied with myself. I'd made it to work and back with no issue. This might sound trivial, but even small disruptions in our daily routine can be massively liberating. Routine, as we have seen, can be comfortable; but comfort can lead to stagnation. Sometimes, it really helps to give up control. I had no choice in this instance, but giving up control of how you normally do things, forces new ideas and experiences into the mix. This leads us naturally towards a more receptive outlook. Having to find an alternative means of getting to work, I realise that I have become steeped in routine, never considering my options. Why do I never cycle to work? It would only take fifteen minutes, and wouldn't cost me paper money.

Life throws unexpected curve balls. It occasionally forces change. We may naturally react to that with negative thinking. But, what if we shift that thinking, embrace the challenge, and freely give up control? A shift in perspective can make all the difference. Change can actually open the mind, make us receptive to new ideas; indeed induce the production of new ideas. Change can be good. It's very often a matter of perspective, and change can give us an all new perspective. I have genuinely enjoyed this temporary dip into the unfamiliar, the challenges it has thrown up, and being forced to find alternatives to my routine. It has reminded me that routine, as comfortable is it is, isn't always best. The way we look at what we are given by "change" can have a massive impact in what we do with it.

And so, to paraphrase an age old saying, when life gives you lemons, make gin and tonic. Cheers.