Alyssa Leolani

I slipped on the ice.

This phrase came from the deep archives of my mind and surprised me when it resurfaced. But it was the only way I could describe how I was feeling in the psychiatrist’s office.

I slipped on the ice.

 When I lived in Russia 10 years ago, I met a babushka (a Russian grandma) who told me a story I would never forget. 

Babushka Galya was terrified of falling down. In the winters, Baba Galya prayed sincerely every single day with one earnest request- that she wouldn’t slip on the ice and get hurt. The weather in Siberia was unlike anything I had ever experienced (I know, hard to believe that a California girl wouldn’t know what a harsh winter felt like). The wind and the cold were so severe during the winter that thick sheets of ice would cover the streets and come all the way up to our doorstep. It hurt to breathe when we stepped outside, no matter how many layers we had on. Stairs and sidewalks were a battlefield, and yet this was never reason enough to stop the Russian girls from wearing their stiletto boots. 

Although it was not uncommon for one to slip and fall hard, Baba Galya had full confidence in God that her one request would be honored. After all, this was the only thing she prayed for.

One day while out walking to the bus stop, Baba Galya lost her footing. She tried to catch herself but had nothing to hold on to. Down Baba Galya went, and she slipped on the ice.

Baba Galya fell so hard on her knee, it affected how she walked from then on. She moved very slowly and carefully with a limp using a cane to support her bad knee. For years after, Baba Galya harbored resentment and hurt feelings with one question on her mind. 

Why didn’t God answer my prayers, and prevent me from falling? 

He let me slip on the ice. God having full control over every aspect of life allowed the fall and suffering. Why would He do that to me? 

I had no idea what to say to Baba Galya then, because I too didn’t know why He had let that happen to her. 

My mind came back to reality from memory lane as I was trying to wrap my head around my current situation. I came back just in time for the doctor to drop another bombshell on me. 

“You not only have a bipolar disorder, but also obsessive-compulsive personality (not to be confused with obsessive-compulsive disorder).”

Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder is characterized by a preoccupation with perfectionism and mental and interpersonal control, at the expense of flexibility, openness, and efficiency. A few other qualities associated with this disorder are preoccupation with details, excessive devotion to work and productivity, rigidity and stubbornness just to name a few. 

In this moment the only way to explain how I felt was Baba Galya’s memorable phrase.

 I slipped on the ice. 

Baba Galya’s confusion made more sense to me as I had the same question now in my mind. 

How many times in the last few years had I prayed for to be saved from boisterous waves I was drowning in? And yet, Heavenly Father had allowed me to flounder for years before I got any answers. 

Years! 

Years I can’t get back, memories I can’t change, strain on my marriage that could have been prevented, and events I can’t revisit to just enjoy the moment. Time just slipped by me as I struggled every moment to keep my head above water. 

At this point it was too much to take in, and I started to cry. 

I was overcome with anger and sadness wishing I had a time machine to tell the 20-year-old version of myself to get help, so I didn’t waste a whole decade wading through this internal mess.

The doctor, a very kind, intuitive man seemed to catch on to my troubled mind and asked, “Why are you crying?”

All I could manage to say, with tears spilling out onto my cheeks was, 

“I’m broken.”

 Saying that out loud made me cry more. I was humiliated and scared.

The sweet doctor then told me, “Everyone is broken in some way. There is not one person on this earth who doesn’t have some kind of challenge whether it is mental, physical, or emotional. And we are fortunate that there are ways to help with the bipolar disorder- medication, therapy, nutrition, and exercise…”

“But what about the personality disorder? What do I do with that?”

 I asked quietly barely looking up, still embarrassed from all of my issues laid out on his prescription pad.

The doctor chuckled then surprised me with his confident response.

“Nothing!

 The obsessive-compulsive disorder is what makes you goodat what you pursue. You will need to learn tactics to fine tune it and work on the paralyzing drive for perfection, but this “disorder” is a gift. 

It’s what makes you great at everything you do.”

His response completely caught me off guard, and his words triggered another part of Baba Galya’s story I had forgotten.

Years after her fall, Baba Galya walked along slowly with her cane getting ready to cross the street. Driving in Russia is chaos, as there really aren’t many rules or policemen around to enforce… anything. There are no lanes, pedestrians don’t have the right of way, and almost every bus I saw had cracks on the windshields. Baba Galya got halfway across the street when 2 cars came speeding towards her. She panicked as they barreled towards her. As they got closer, she instinctively moved her right leg forward to run forward out of the way, thinking she could beat the fast-moving cars. However, her hurt knee held her back, and she was stuck in her place unable to move fast enough as the cars were now upon her. She closed her eyes and held her breath preparing for impact.

Much to Baba Galya’s surprise, the two cars sped right by her, one on each side of her, leaving just enough room for an old, slow Grandma to stand in the middle of them. She was breathless and shocked as she made it across the street unscathed. When she could catch her breath and ponder on what happened, peace came to her as she finally received an answer to a question that had plagued her mind for years. 

Why had God allowed her to slip on the ice? 

Because it was that very fall that would save her life.

Baba Galya’s weakness had essentially protected her from a future danger she could not have anticipated making it impossible for her to understand the why at the time of the fall. 

I had always known that trials give us the opportunity to grow and learn, but I had never viewed my challenges as a life vest protecting me from stormy waves rolling in the distance.

The burden I carried, weighing me down all those years turned out to be the buoy I needed to keep my head above water during a tumultuous time in our life.

Had Heavenly answered my prayers and pulled me from the dark waters I was lost in, my obsession with details, my stubbornness and inflexibility would have been taken from me as well.

Without that obsessive-compulsion, I couldn’t possibly have had the fight to take on autism in a huge, intimidating city like Los Angeles. The challenge to help Jagger develop only flared up a fire in me I didn’t know existed as I adamantly refused to allow his diagnoses to dictate our progression and happiness as a family. I obsessed over his development in every capacity and soaked up every single detail in all the domains he was delayed in. I then created a home environment that incorporated Jagger’s therapies in our daily routine. We tirelessly worked on his development around the clock. Without my fixation on the minute details and push for perfection, I could not have picked up on the treatments he needed nor would I have had the courage to stand up to professionals who tried to stick my son in a box and put a cap on his potential. 

This new understanding of my trials humbled me, causing me to fall on my knees in gratitude for the very things I had prayed to be taken from me.

Heavenly Father hadn’t forgotten me. He hadn’t ignored my desperate pleas. He could just see the growing swells coming towards me and wanted to keep me afloat. The only way to do that was for me to keep my lifejacket on- and that would be my weakness.

I am grateful for my pain, my tragedies, and imperfections as they not only help me to grow, but also save me from the storms I cannot see, but that He CAN see.

I am thankful for my brokenness, I am thankful for my messy chaos, I am thankful for my imperfections,

And above all I am thankful for my slips and the falls, for I now know that there is a reason for every unanswered prayer and a purpose behind every weakness… 

I’ve come to accept that I may not know the why for my challenges and may never know in this lifetime, but that’s ok. It’s always going to be okay.

Because as long as I have my life vest on,

I’ll be alright.

“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” 

Ether 12:27