Glass Houses

Turbo-shopping. That’s what I call it when I fly through the grocery store, filling my shopping cart to the point where items are barely hanging on to the metal edges, and doing it all in less than 45 minutes.  I used to love turbo-shopping.  I typically would do it when I shopped right after work or whenever I was in a hurry.  I know where everything is in the store, so it’s easy to fly through aisles, grabbing merchandise on the run.  Occasionally on a Saturday, I would venture into “stroll-mode” and would genuinely enjoy the shopping experience.  I’d explore new aisles, examine new product options.  Most frequently, though, I was a skilled turbo-shopper.

 

Obviously that’s changed a little now.  If I turbo-shop, I ultimately make mistakes and forget things.  I need to take it a little slower, to be a little more precise.   I still am able to get my regular shopping done in less than 90 minutes, but I rarely try to fit in a shopping event right after work hours anymore.  I found a compromise between rapid-fire cart-filling mode and I’ve got nothing better to do today, so let’s explore every nook and cranny of the store mode.

 

When I shopped last week, I entered the store looking through different glasses.  I’ve been wearing the “glasses” for months now, but this shopping experience was the first time that I actually opened my eyes to peer out of the lenses.   

 

First, as I tried to park, I tried to find a spot that was a short distance from the store entrance.  I was tired and walking a little slowly and it was frigid outside. I use an awful lot of spoons when I shop—filling the cart, emptying the cart, reloading the cart, unloading the items into the car, and then if no one is home, unloading the items into the house and putting them away.  Whew! I used two spoons just to describe the series of events! If I can park just a little closer to the store entrance, it’s a huge help.

 

I watched an individual pull into a parking spot reserved for the disabled.  He got out of the car, along with his young children in tow, and romped and frolicked his way up to the entrance.  At first I judged him.  He didn’t appear to be disabled.  Hey, but either do I.  So, I chided myself for making a judgment and then I walked past his car.  It didn’t carry a marker to indicate that he was indeed disabled and in need of better parking opportunities.  Instead of falling back into judgment-land, I walked away believing that the placard had just fallen from his rear-view mirror and onto the floor. 

 

I made it inside the store and started my frenetic shopping, not necessarily in turbo-style, but still with a level of intensity.  It was crowded in the store.  The aisles were jammed.  And, sure enough, I was behind a woman driving a scooter.  She was driving very slowly, and rather erratically – swerving along so I couldn’t really gauge where she was headed next.  Just weeks ago, I likely would have let out a big sigh, and while I’m rather embarrassed to say it, I likely would have huffed past her to let her know she was slowing up traffic.  How horrible of me!  That’s exactly what I thought as I processed the scene in my head as I entered the dog food aisle.

 

That day, I encountered elderly folks, hobbling along at a slow and necessary pace. I encountered two women with walkers, and another with a cane. I encountered several young moms, trying to hip-balance babies while navigating full carts through crowded surroundings.  I stopped focusing on the items I was placing into the cart, and instead opened my eyes to the scene unfolding around me.  My pace slowed even further.  These days, I will find myself, after just 15 minutes of shopping, relying on the cart to help me meander through the store.  My legs and back tire, especially with all the loading and unloading of heavy laundry soap, dog food, and a multitude of other items.  However, my pace slowed further because I was thinking about and evaluating those around me.  I was processing thoughts of myself in this new world; one that I hadn’t truly seen before. 

 

I must have come to almost a complete stop because two teen-aged girls became very irritated with me. “Excuse me!” one said in a very huffy tone.  They squeezed around me, let out a sigh and a roll of their eyes.  I’m guessing they were complaining internally about the lady (me) holding up their shopping progress. I couldn’t reach out to scold them, or even to judge them for what many would have considered to be utter rudeness.  Just a short while ago, I was a lot like them – and twice their age.  Quick to irritate, quick to judge, quick to become frustrated with those who moved slower than me, those who drove slower than me, those who were different than me.

 

What’s wild though is that all that time, I thought I was a very accepting individual.  I would have considered myself to be aware of other’s needs and weaknesses.  I thought I was accommodating. Instead, I now see that I was paying lip-service to being understanding. 

 

One of the gifts of having M.S. is this new ability to look at things, to look at people differently.  I pledged that day to learn true understanding of my fellow human beings.  I pledged to be more patient with that woman who is irritating me by driving so slowly.  Maybe she has diplopia and is scared out of her wits and just trying to get to the doctor’s office.  I can’t imagine how the people on the highway with me the day I lost my normal vision felt.  I pledged to become more accommodating, more tolerant, more forgiving of others who may be facing their own invisible life challenges.  It’s time for me to move out of my glass house, to put away my stones, and to develop into a better human being.