I’ve always been…prone to injury…let’s call it. Some would argue that I’m just a plain old klutz and maybe they’re right. It’s not that I’m uncoordinated, I mean, I was a cheerleader after all and can certainly tear up a dance floor and was coordinated enough to dance on a 3×3 foot cube in show choir. No, I would attribute it to my all or nothing, leap before you look personality.

There are a few very distinctly classic examples of my ability to make a face-plant look like a work of art, but none has effected me more than falling out of an airplane cargo bin.

Yep, did I mention that, for some reason, these epic falls happen in some pretty unusual places? The pits at a racetrack, a dorm room in Japan and yes, the cargo bin of an airplane.

You see, I’ve also always been a brute. Growing up, if my parents needed to move the refrigerator or washer and dryer, they didn’t call on their friends, nope, they called on me. I loved it! It was always the most amazing feeling to be able to lift heavy objects. So, when the wanderlust set in in my early 20s, I got a job at the Minneapolis/St.Paul International Airport (code: MSP). I started working the ticket counter which is how I met my “prince in shining polyester,” Craig and then I moved outside and became a “rampy,” before becoming one of three women in the bag room.

It was a fantastic job! Not only did I get to use my brute strength, I got to do it where people go on epic adventures. I have to say, other than being in the entertainment industry, working at the airport was my absolute favorite job. And, to quote my favorite movie of all time – Wayne’s World (I know…don’t judge me) –

“I’ve had plenty of Joe jobs, but nothing I’d call a career. Let me know put it to you this way, I have an extensive collection of name tags and hairnets.”

One day, I was loading a plane, I was deep in the belly of the cargo bin and the planes were the smaller regional jets so we didn’t have bag belts. Instead, we had carts that we would push up to the opening of the cargo bin. The cart platform was about halfway between the bin opening and the ground. There would be someone on the ground putting luggage on the cart and someone in the bin loading and organizing. If we were fully staffed, there would be someone on the cart handing the bags to the person in the bin. We were a little shorthanded that day and so it was just myself and a guy we called “Fish.” Fish and I were in a time crunch and there was a pile of bags still needing to be loaded laying on the ground. So, in order to help move things along, Fish switched from putting the bags on the cart to putting them into the opening of the cargo bin. I didn’t realize that’s what was happening and I stepped backwards to climb out and grab some more bags from the cart when I tripped and went tumbling backwards (in one of my epic pieces of performance art) and landed on the pile of bags about five feet below.

The aftermath wasn’t pretty because normally I would just get up and keep going. This would take me a minute to walk off which is what I (stupidly) did. We finished loading the plane. I told you, I’m a brute and all my…ok, fine…klutziness…there, I said it! gave me a very high pain tolerance. The next day I couldn’t walk.

I ended up having what’s called an SI joint dislocation. It appears – because I’m an overachiever – that I landed on a bag just right that I knocked the SI joint (which holds the pelvic bone to the hip bone) out of place. . It was probably one of the most painful things I’ve ever endured. They put me on “light duty,” which meant I worked in the office at the airline far far away from the hustle and bustle that I loved so much. It sucked. But, like all things seemingly “bad,” it propelled me to finally follow my dream of acting in Los Angeles and here I am.

Here I am with a flare up of the old injury. The other day as I was packing, I felt a little tear-pop in the SI joint area and sure enough, woke up yesterday having trouble walking. I’m not going to lie, it effected me mentally yesterday. I got scared and then I got depressed.

“What the heck am I going to do if I can’t move because I can’t walk?” Then I went down a shame spiral…”this is my own fault because I should be doing yoga and taking walks more regularly. My moods wouldn’t be so susceptible if I was eating the way I’m supposed. You know better!”

And on and on and on. So, yesterday was a bad day. We all have them.

BUT, or rather, AND, I am determined to make today different. That’s all I can do. If I keep beating myself up for things I’ve done in the past, I won’t be able to enjoy the life I have right now. And, it’s a pretty great life and I’m creating a pretty epic adventure. So, I woke up early, not as early as I wanted, but early enough. I didn’t give into my all or nothing attitude that would have said, “well, you woke up an hour later than you intended so you don’t have time to go for a walk or do yoga.” Nope, I didn’t give in and I did both and now I’m sitting on an ice pack, writing this blog.

I’ve always been prone to injury, but the good thing about that is that I know what to do when I am injured. And, so, I’m taking care of it. Because I absolutely refuse to let my past injury dictate my future adventure.