Stay strong.

After the fact I thought about what I had done and wondered if saying nothing at all might have been more appropriate, for exactly what sort of message is “stay strong?”

Everyone deals with personal crisis in their own way, and to tell someone who may be falling to pieces to “stay strong” is just wrong in my opinion. Why must we stay strong? I don’t think we should; if that’s not what our emotions are telling us. We shouldn’t fight to stay strong for the sake of another; we should let our true emotions be seen and heard, otherwise we’re just projecting a lie.

So, have a breakdown if that’s where you feel yourself headed – cry your heart out – allow yourself to wallow in your pain, your anger, your sadness. Whatever you’re feeling, just stay true to you. For only then are we being true to others.

Something to think about…

Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

Today I had to get out. Not because I felt the overwhelming need that had crept up and seized me so many times in the previous weeks, but for sheer necessity alone; proving that I was capable and come Monday, could face the alarm clock, pick myself up, drive myself to the office and get on with my life.

I had a little list; things that I’d been meaning to ask for, but kept putting off. And so I decided a short trip to the drugstore would be a good test; nothing too strenuous, just a few miles from home.

Mind you, I’ve only had to make my way around my house on crutches, so I was thankful for the wheelchair just inside the front doors at Walgreens, and my son had a blast pushing me around with the little blue basket in my lap, filling it as we traversed row after row.

Our errand was accomplished and we even managed a few laughs and giggles in the process. We left the wheelchair at the door and I crutched it back to the van, which was in the front row, just a few spaces from the door. However, I’m not able to drive with the cast, so I have to remove it, which is no small feat let me tell you, even though it’s made to be removable.

So, I’m trying to do all this on my own, even though my son wants to help, because come Monday, I’ll be on my own and need to get the process down. So the cast is off and I’m slipping on a shoe so I could drive, trying to position the cast and crutches between the two front seats for easy access and I hear someone honking their horn.

We turned to look and there’s this woman with who I assume is her daughter, stopped at the end of the car beside us; her blinker is on and clearly she’s wanting my spot, but apparently I’m not moving fast enough for her.

We ignore her and go about our business. He gets in as I’m still messing with the crutches and I start the van and she honks again; this time a little longer, a little more annoying. In much more of a hurry now for me to get the hell out of her way; and I feel my blood pressure begin to rise.

We were putting on our seatbelts just as the driver of the car parked beside us comes out of the store and gets in their car, but not before she honks again! And so I wait.

And while I wait I put the passenger window down, knowing she’s about to pull in beside us, just as Cole puts the hood of his sweatshirt up and slowly eases his seat back out of the line of fire.

She whips her car in, looks at me with a scowl on her face and throws her hands up as if to say, “What the Fuck.” I’m leaning over toward the window now waiting for her to emerge, and I saw the scowl disappear when looked over and saw my position at the ready, then turned back and fumbled with her bag. Her teenage daughter got out before her and gave me an apologetic look which I completely ignored.

The moment her head cleared the door I pounced….

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said a little louder than probably necessary, but wanting to be certain not to miss this opportunity, lest I would be forced to cast back up and follow her into the store. She looked at me and cocked her head, as I was continuing to infringe on her precious time.

“ I’m sorry I wasn’t moving fast enough for you; I was busy adjusting my crutches and fixing my leg before I could pull out and drive off”, and picked up my crutches from between the seats for affect, which caused her face to pale and eyes to widen just enough to be noticeable. She stood there for a moment looking at me, but still said nothing. My point was made, but I wasn’t quite done.

“Perhaps if you weren’t in such a fucking hurry and obviously too lazy to walk a few extra steps, you might have noticed the row of empty parking spaces right behind us!” She slammed her door and mumbled something under her breath then yelled at her daughter who was lingering at the front of the car, craning her neck so as not to miss a thing.

I calmly pulled out of my spot as she walked toward the door. I then backed up so that I was even with where she was on the sidewalk and blared my horn long and loud, refrained from telling her she was a stupid bitch, and then calmly drove off.

I apologized to Cole for my ugly behavior and foul mouth. It’s alright,” he said as he pulled his hood down and put his seat back up.” I just wanted to get out of your way because I had a feeling what was coming.” I smiled at him, not knowing if that was a good thing or not.

“She just messed with the wrong person who doesn’t take any crap,” he said. “Besides, maybe it was a good lesson for her. Maybe that’ll make her stop and think twice, the next time she’s in a big hurry.”

Maybe it will…

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

My stomach reminded me about half way home that I hadn’t taken a break for lunch and needed to eat. Too tired to even try to visualize the contents of my kitchen, I realized, as the line of cars in front of me suddenly came to a screeching halt, and I almost ate the ass end of a mini cooper, that I’d need to make an unwanted stop for food.

I knew I’d pay more, but didn’t care, as I whipped into the parking lot of the Fresh Market. The thought of driving circles in Publix parking lot to try and find a place to park, then face the mass of shoppers, under row after endless row of glaring florescent lights, then argue with the check-out boy that I could manage just fine pushing my own cart to the car, made me want to gouge my eyes out.

So, into the Fresh Market I strolled; strolled in the pouring rain, with no umbrella and too tired to give a shit. The scent of the wicker baskets hanging from the ceiling, mingled with cinnamon and vanilla assaulted me the minute I crossed the threshold. The dim lights and soft music instantly calmed me, as I took my cart and began to stroll through fresh cut flowers and candle displays; choosing a lovely little hydrangea arrangement to adorn my kitchen table.

The gentleman at the meat counter waited patiently with a smile, as I tried to decide between chicken cordon bleu, or chicken ala Venezia. I turned to look; no one behind me, hmm…maybe I don’t want chicken after all. He thanked me seven minutes later and told me to have a wonderful evening, then went back to whatever it was he was doing before I interrupted.

I wandered aimlessly, picking items that suited my fancy, sampling the pretty pink, perfectly chilled watermelon; my feet no longer hurting, the pounding in my head all but gone; enjoying the experience, wondering why I don’t do all of my shopping here. Totally relaxed and nearly done; though I wasn’t ready to leave the safe, comforting haven, to face the ugly rainy world that awaited me, just on the other side of those doors.

She made my decision for me, as I must have traveled too close to checkout territory, and she said with a bright and cheery smile, “I can help you over here Miss.” MISS…how long has it been since anyone called me Miss!

Alrighty then; into her stall I turned.

She commented on my flowers, then proceeded to explain that even though I was purchasing reusable green bags that she was going to wrap my watermelon in plastic because she didn’t want to get the rest of my things wet, just in case the container should leak. How very thoughtful, I mused to my self.

Then I don’t know what happened; she started telling me about her last job at the pet store and how she got attached to one of the tropical fish, because every day when it saw her it swam to the side of the tank toward her and how one day she came in and it was dead. So upset she was over this dead fish that she was crying when her sister called her; but when her sister asked the cause of death, suggesting that perhaps it had drown, she reared her head back and released a raucous laugh that literally sent chills up my spine.

I suddenly noticed that during the story she was holding my snow peas hostage in her crazy clutches, and that most of my items still remained in the cart; only one green bag opened, and not even half full. Then I watched helplessly, as the other lone shopper turned and walked away; leaving me alone with the mad maven of blathering chatter.

Two items later she asks if I had a bad day, said I looked tired and worn out. Before I could respond with a righteous fuck you, she starts in about a new employee just recently transferred from another store; how mean he is; young guy that acts all fruity and that she’s certain is gay. I took out my checkbook and asked her for a pen, prompting her to move her prejudice ass; as the ugly outside world didn’t seem so ugly to me anymore.

On and on she went, until finally I looked at her and said, “did you ever think maybe that’s why he’s mean to you?” she looked at me and said, “Huh?” I repeated myself, more slowly than the first; “Did you ever think that maybe that’s why he’s mean to you?”

“Well, I don’t know him or nothin’, so he’s got no reason to be treatin’ me mean the way he does.” She gave a slight jump when I exclaimed, “Exactly!” and pointed my finger at her.

“You don’t know him, he doesn’t know you, and yet because he doesn’t act in a manner you’ve come to consider normal, acting instead in a way you consider ‘fruity’, you automatically make the assumption that he is gay?! What exactly about his behavior has led you to the position of assuming you know anything whatsoever about his sexual orientation?”

“His what?” I looked at her and shook my head in disgust. “His sexual preference; whether he prefers to have sexual relations with a person of the same or opposite gender.” Just then a tidy little man with black rim glasses, who would have been perfectly fetching had his ensemble included a bowtie, came into view, making his way toward us and stopping to adjust some miscellaneous item at the end of the isle; obviously her manager.

He came into her line of vision, making his presence known and she immediately began scanning and bagging my remaining items. She gave me my total and I stroked a check. She thanked me by name as she handed me back my driver’s license. “Well,” I said, as I took it from her and put it back in my wallet; “are you some sort of psychic, or have you been called upon by a higher power to act as judge and jury?”

She leaned toward me and whispered, “We shouldn’t talk about this anymore, ma’am.” Oh, alright, suddenly I’m ma’am; no longer the friendly Miss! I leaned right back and said, “You’re right, we shouldn’t be, but I didn’t ask for this conversation, and your coworker didn’t ask to be judged and talked about behind his back; by a prejudice, no-count, blathering idiot. No wonder the fish is dead!”

I grabbed my bags and left her standing with her mouth agape, no doubt trying to decipher exactly what I had just said, then turned and nodded acknowledgment, when I heard clapping behind me and the pretty young cashier stood looking at me, with a grin that covered her whole face; obviously thankful that someone had put that old bag in her place.

Offensive.
Threatening.
Intimidating.

Something until that moment, she was completely unaware of.

She heard herself apologizing; for something she had done unintentionally; a reaction she had unconsciously displayed; one that others had seen, did not like, and nonetheless commented on. She tried to reason, attempted to explain, but nothing appeased and so she apologized once more.

A defense mechanism.
A trigger response.
Raw, uninhibited, instinctual emotion.

Certainly not something she did on a whim, without reason or provocation; and certainly not intentional to cause such reaction; happening only when pushed; to the point where emotions automatic reaction is beyond conscious knowledge or control.

The only way she could define and describe it; falling on deaf ears that did not seek a reason, simply wanting to bring to light and condemn for.

A single look; nothing more. One that apparently, speaks louder than words.

She tried to reason this irrational response; what was expected in search of appeasement. Why such an issue was being made of nothing. But there was no rationale; only comparison came to mind, as she drove home that night…

Tell me; does a dog not bite when feeling threatened? Does a snake not strike when cornered? Does a child not wale in fury when feeling enraged, having no other way to express itself? Is she not a being of flesh, blood and feeling; not unlike that of yourselves? Or does her refusal to succumb to meaningless melodrama, remove her from your realm of the norm?

People fear, judge and ridicule that which they do not understand; yet none of whom she speaks, have ever taken the time to truly come to know her. Stop and consider what might have spurred her reaction; or consider for a second what might happen if her look were to be replaced with thoughts that spewed forth…

For years she did the organized religion thing and found herself completely disillusioned by the illusion, and so she happily became a solitary practitioner, concentrating on her own personal relationship with our maker and her place within the universe. Lately though, she’d been second-guessing herself and wondering of the choices she’d made; brought on entirely by the perceptions and misconceptions of others; a dangerous and wicked spell to fall asunder.

Similar to Isaiah 24:19 – The earth is broken asunder. The earth is split through. The earth is shaken violently. So too had her world become; feeling helpless and weak, to a situation in which she had no control, she found herself succumbing to the darkness where recently there had been only light.

It wasn’t until she found herself deep in the well of solicitude, that she was reacquainted with her true self; shown the brightness of her own light that dwells inside. Reminded that no matter how black the darkness descends, how hopeless a situations seems, how hard one is slapped with adversity, the solution lies not always in reaching out to others for help, but by reaching deep, to the core of our very being and drawing from the never-ending reserves of strength of which we have been equipped.

A certainty she has learned from life experience. Something she was never taught in the sanctuary of a church. And so in that sea of suits and spring dresses, the hippie-chick took her place in line; shoulders squared, head up proud, and a knowing smile shining bright on her face; the sting of recent adversity fading fast.

Surrounded by flowers
Tangerine
Tropical
Glued to the
Dash
A plastic girl
Giving hula

Finding false
Comfort
In her co-pilot and
Lucky charm

I wonder…

Does a silver plaque
Warn
Pinned to her visor
To never drive
Faster
Than your angel
Can fly

Screaming for love
When there’s no love
In them

Crying foul
When they cheat
At every turn

Pointing a finger
Casting the
Blame

Refusing to take
Responsibility
For actions all
Their own

Refusing or
Unable

A sure sign
Of the true
Make-up

Is it any
Wonder
I chose this
Path of
Darkness

Blinded by the
Light
When true colors
Are revealed

Friendly people acknowledging, as they pass her by, all smiling and wishing her to have a nice day; wondering of her ritual that never waivers; steaming espresso, four cigarettes, seemingly disinterested as she writes in her notebook.

Trying to calm the waters that rush under her bridge, musing as the waiter delivers carafe’s of hot coffee. Little birds chirp, singing for crumbs, unaware that she has none. Breaking from routine she goes back inside, ordering a piece of pumpkin bread, picking the seeds for her self.

Like Snow White in the magical forest, the birds flock, singing just for her. Thirteen gather and eat crumbs at her feet; two on the table, one brave chickadee perched proudly on her knee.

Today was quite different, breaking from routine; embracing the world she found her self in, deciding she might just stay for a spell; laughing out loud, showing traces of her true self, gathering her belongings, she left with a smile…