Today, my life sucks. S, U, X, sucks.
And lest you interpret this as a complaint, I must declare that I have objective corroboration from a third party to whom I related the events leading to my current state. I do not complain: I merely report.
The cause of this barometric reading lies not in something incurable, insurmountable, or wildly evil. I’m not talking cancer, dementia, or being one of the 5,000,000 senior citizens over the age of sixty facing hunger. (statistic source). In time, I will recover from the black eye, the bruised ribs, and the embarrassment of the whispered suggestion between two well-meaning good Samaritans as to the cause of my circumstances. (“I saw her walk before she fell. . . don’t you think she is drunk?”)
Eventually, the security guard at my grocery store will stop feeling the need to follow me around the aisles, and my name will fall forgotten within the pages of his little pocket notebook.
I even have spare glasses, of sorts; three years old, not quite adequate prisming, but good enough to get me through until the frames of my eight-hundred dollar, five-month old specs can be repaired.
So while my life sucks, right now, at nearly six o’clock on a warm spring evening, on the fourth day of the twenty-eighth month of My Year Without Complaining, the condition will abate. My life will continue, and tomorrow might see me smiling once again.
Corrine, I’m so sorry to hear about your fall. Sending you healing from a distance. For me, falling is one of the most brutally embarrassing experiences I’ve had. Repeatedly. It never “gets easier” for me. One of these days I hope to make fun of the darn thing. Once I stop being angry and ashamed. Till then, sister of falls, I bid you peace and comfort to the wounds of battle, both inside and out.
Rebecca
Rebecca: I agree; it is embarrassing to fall and last night’s fall had the potential of being particularly and painfully embarrassing. People who mean well nonetheless contribute to that. But I’ve been trying to get used to the experience for nearly six decades (I fell ill at age 18 months and by 3, had to learn to walk all over again and ended up disabled). I often say that I have it easier than someone stricken in later years, as I know nothing different. But you are very right in sensing that the goal is humor. Some days, I can laugh. Once I fell while walking into a swank country club with two attorneys, one of whom was my boss and the other of whom was a fellow associate in the firm. My boss got all upset that I might be hurt. The other attorney said, “Oh don’t worry, falling is her second job.” I laughed so hard! Once I fell flat on my back while walking with my long time friend Alan White. We had been strolling arm and arm and he had stopped abruptly, prompting my backward plunge. He looked down and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, don’t you have ‘reverse’?” Again, hysterical laughter! The best medicine!
CC, How do you differentiate between complaining and reporting?
JK, by looking in a mirror!