Learning to ride a bike

A poem that I wish I could share with my younger self.

I learned to ride a bike

When I was a very little girl.

I cried.

The whole time.

Because every time I fell off

He wouldn't help me up

He would stand there

And shout

Until I pulled myself off the floor

And got back on.

He didn't let me catch my breath

Not for one second

And then I fell off again

And again

And again

And again

And the time I spent on the ground

Got longer

And longer

And the shouting

Louder 

And louder

And the breathing

Sharper

And harder.

I came home with bruises all over my body.

But the worst bruise

Was the one that hasn't healed yet

The one that burned its way deep into my soul

To remind me

Of that little kid

Crying on the ground next to her bike

With her bleeding knees

And I shout at her

Because why can't she get up?

Why can't she keep going?

Why can't she grow up?

But she is me.

The tiny little girl,

Trapped inside my almost eighteen-year-old body.

The one who wanted her dad to pick her up off the floor when she fell,

And who wanted him to hug her

And tell her she was ok

Tell her that failing is a part of life.

She was always going to fall off the bicycle.

I am always going to fall off the bicycle.

I am always going to fail.

But, before I beat myself into a bruised and bloody mess

Because I am a perfectionist

I try to remind myself of the little girl and the bike

And ask myself what she'd say

If she saw I was treating myself the same way he did

And the guilt starts to outweigh

The feeling that I deserve that pain.

One day, I'll learn to ride the bike,

And it'll become second nature to live.

But, for now,

I'll let my knees stay bruised and scraped

I'll hold out my hand to the little girl

And tell her that it's ok.

We'll get through it together.

We will learn to ride our bikes.

Reviews

[Lynn Mary]

Beautuliful! I was that little girl as well.