Talking Body, Part 2

I'm going to tantrum here just for a minute, or five, or maybe ten.

Pardon the occassional expletive, because I am feeling a tad pissed.

I am so not impressed Mr. Guy Sitting in the Parking Lot.

I managed to keep my cool in the parking lot, mostly, but I cried in anger and frustration on the way home. And now that I have had some time to get riled up, screw you and the high horse you rode in on.

Listen, I don't like that I have to calculate how much walking I can do in a given day.  I don't enjoy determining if my time is better used walking the shopping cart back to the place where you are supposed to deposit them or used to do the laundry or stand in the shower or some other home based activity.  I'm the kind of person who cleans up other people's trash and goes out of my way to be courteous.

You know what?  I decided to leave that cart there.  I figured it wasn't blocking any cars, it wasn't blocking a significant portion of the sidewalk and there are dozens of young men employed by the grocery store who have the unenviable job of gathing the carts up to return them to the store.

But you, Mr. Parking Lot, sitting in the car next to me mumbled loud enough for me to hear something about me not having the "courtesy" and "decency" to put the cart where it belonged.

Yep, I sure as hell look able bodied and whole.  But I am not.  I have been in daily pain for over a year and I am tired.

I don't manage my shit as well when I am tired, which is why I threw my car in park, got out and used my precious walking time to walk over to your car, where you were righteously sitting with your burning cigarrette.


"Sir," I started when you interrupted me.

"Oh you heard me, did you?" he said.

"Yes I did. I have Lyme Disease and I have severe joint pain.  I left that cart there because I can only be on my feet one hour a day."  My voice was not kind or soft.

You persisted in your quest to right the world of my wrong doing and grumbled something about "Oh, you've used up your hour have you?"

I said "Yes!"

As I turned to leave you said "Well, I will just move that cart for you."

So much kindness Mr. Judgey McJudgey Pants, I didn't hardly know what to do with myself.  So, I spit out "Thank you." Followed by "You might want to think before you judge a stranger!"

To which he replied something about me needing to stop judging strangers.  Right.  I raised my arms up in the international gesture for "What the hell is wrong with you?" and drove away.

To cry at home on my couch.  I have an unfortunate habit of crying when I am angry.

And because I don't like being limited and I don't like being sick and I don't like being unable to return to the stupid cart to the stupid place.

I really don't care about Mr. Parking Lot or his attitude, he is likely an angry man who dumps his anger out on everyone as he goes through life.  If I were to guess, I'd say his life probably sucks.  I could be wrong about that, but generally happy people don't act rude to strangers.

If I weren't so freaking tired, I'd have ignored him and gone along my merry way.  Like I said though, my shit management skills are really lacking when I get to a certain level of exhaustion.

My guess is if I had a cane or looked disabled, he would have been less likely to say anything.  But I look perfectly healthy.

But I am not perfectly healthy, I have Lyme Disease.  I have a disease that is hard to treat and can be very debilitating.  I consider myself lucky because I'm only dealing with joint pain and fatigue, rather than a myriad of problems in multiple body systems.  My husband might have the disease and so might my 9 year old daughter.  Treatment is hard and I can't imagine my little girl going through that. That really makes me want to cry.

So, I am not sitting on my couch crying because Mr. Judgey McJudgey Pants hurt my feelings but because a confrontation with a stranger in the parking lot puts a spot light on my internal struggle with my lack of capabilities. I had to talk myself into leaving that cart there.

My cats Blizzy and Ju-ju sitting on the
chair I use in the kitchen.

I'm not contributing much with household chores.  I can't garden much.  I have to sit in a chair in the kitchen when I do dishes or cook.  I mostly don't shower because it involves standing.  My husband pushed me in a wheel chair when we accompanied my daughter's class on a field trip. Then I feel guilty because I am not contributing.

For the first time in my life, I have physical limitations and it sucks. Coming to grips with my limitations is not an easy thing to do.  There are way too many instances of "I can't" when I have lived my life as an "I can" kind of girl.

So, Mr. Parking Lot, thank you for reals for providing me an opportunity to deal with my struggles.  I need to grieve these changes in my life, even if they are only temporary.   I haven't gotten it totally worked out, but I will.

And, maybe if this happens again, I will keep it together better and use it as chance to advocate for those with invisible illnesses.


You can read Talking Body, Part 1 here and Part 3 here