We all fall. We fall and then we get up, dust ourselves off and get back to our lives. That's what we're told. Rub a little dirt on it, toughen up, stick it out. But sometimes, you can't get up.

At age 14, I was all sports, all the time. I was an 8th grader ready to go into high school as a two sport athlete. My dad was my coach in both sports and all of my friends were my teammates. On a cold February day, I was playing basketball in our last tournament of the season. One of my friends got hurt, so I was put back in the game for the last 20 minutes. I like to joke with that friend that if she hadn't gotten hurt, than everything would have been fine. I tore my ACL while dribbling down the court, my lower leg stopped and my upper leg didn't, tearing the essential ligament cleanly in half. I have very rarely experienced pain like this. I quite literally could not get up off of the court, my dad and one of the other coaches had to carry me off.

As the source of the pain become clearer, I was informed that the ACL does not heal itself. This meant surgery and nine months of physical therapy. I could kiss my dream of being a high school athlete goodbye, for the time being at least. The summer after my surgery was one of the lowest points of my life. I had to watch my friends swim and play softball while I relearned how to walk and then run. Through this strenuous experience, I discovered a new part of myself. Music took over my life and filled the hole that my love for sports left.

I am miles better with music than I ever was with sports. I found that with singing, I could be the best of the best. It came naturally for me and I never had to be forced into practicing. Over the first two years of my high school career, I realized that I couldn't be an athlete — I wasn't good enough and my knee gave me too much trouble. I threw myself fully into music, finally finding a place where I could thrive.

My entire high school career was tied to my love of music. I was president of choir, participated in every musical and sang an unimaginable amount of classical music. Music lead me to Luther College, where the promise of music for non music majors seemed too good to be true.

Maybe it was, because as I am sitting here writing this now, I am all too conscious of the condition of my voice. I have developed vocal nodules from my many years of singing. Be it classical music, musical theater outbreaks or passionate shower concerts, somehow, someway I have what is every singer's worst nightmare. I truly feel like I cannot get back up.

If you know me, you know that I talk almost constantly and if I had my way, I would be singing for most of my day. Vocal nodules means talking 50 percent less than I do right now, singing even less. I'll tell you, relearning to speak is by far the hardest thing I will ever have to do. I can't seem to find my footing and get back up.

I don't know what I should do. Athletes with ACL tears and singers with vocal nodules know that the worst part isn't the injury itself, it's the emotional typhoon that follows it. Some of my darkest days came after tearing my ACL, and I've never truly recovered from that. Here's hoping that more dark days will not follow this vocal injury.

To get to the point of these stories, it's okay if you can't get up, you don't always have to. It's okay to stay down for a bit, build your strength and wait until you're ready. If not for the amazing doctors, therapists, and friends that have constantly surrounded me and supported me, I would not have gotten better. And, of course, my mom, dad and sister, who only want the best for me in everything I do.

Sometimes I can't get up, but I can trust that the people around me will help me up when I'm ready.