We’ve all heard about the young man who lost his life over a conflict regarding a handicap parking spot. It seems that when people who are stepping out of their boundaries get involved, really bad things happen.
Sadly, this story made national headlines but there are plenty of other stories where someone gets out of their vehicle and some busy-body has something to say about where they parked that don’t make headlines. I have a question for those of you who feel it is your responsibility to manage the parking lots. Who gave you the authority to speak on things for which you have no knowledge? More importantly, who gave you the authority to act on them?
I’ve never been one for much TV but when I was a teenager, there was a soap opera that was popular, it was called One Life To Live and that name to me, at the time meant nothing but now, its something I constantly remind myself of. It helps me to mind my business. I was given one life to live and whatever you are doing with yours, is not my business. As long as you are not bringing harm to anyone else in my presence, I am going to go about my day, I don’t care if you parked on the sidewalk! Trying to tell you what to do is not the kind of drama I signed up for. I don’t know your reasons for the decision to park on the sidewalk or anything else I am viewing as a spectator.
I am battling a life-threatening disease but I can walk, albeit not as fast as I used to. When I tell people that I am not well, one of the first things they say to me is “you don’t look sick”. I am also a single woman who lives alone (nobody stalk me, I’m also crazy) See photo below as proof. What this means is when there are groceries to be bought, I have no choice but to go get them. When important errands must be run, I have to run them. My children live hours away so I am left to do a lot on my own, regardless of what has happened or what I am feeling.
People are judgemental, we just are and I am willing to accept that. What I am not willing to accept is that you should impose those judgments on others as if your way is the only way. You got one life to live, make decisions for you. I am sure that if you are like me, that one life can sometimes be overwhelming, confusing and outright damn disrespectful so how is it that you have the capacity to now live mine and yours? What you come up with in your head for my story, I can guarantee you is completely wrong. If you looked at my almost 5'8" frame that is usually running between 112lbs to 118lbs if I’m lucky, you would think I didn’t eat or that I should eat more perhaps. If you looked at my bald head, you would probably think, man that chick really committed to that whole Wakanda thing. I had my head shaved before Black Panther was a blip on my radar. If you heard my impressive smokers cough, you would think damn she should stop smoking but I’ve never smoked a day in my life. Like I said, you’d more than likely get my story wrong so why do you think you get to write a chapter? You have one life to live.
If you saw me emerge from my vehicle, parked in a handicap space you would probably want to yell at me. You’re not handicapped, get out of that spot! First of all, in case you have yet to catch the running theme here….say it with me, you have…
So you minding my business or trying to live a chapter of mine is going to be quite unwelcomed. Partially because you have assumed something that is not in evidence. (That sounded pretty good didn’t it, all legal like). We assume handicapped placards are reserved for those who are visibly impaired. Missing limbs, wheelchair-bound, walks with a substantial limp and whatever else you can conjure in your head of what being handicapped “looks” like. On this particular day, I’d been locked away in my apartment for at least a week and decided that no matter how bad I was feeling, as an act of rebellion, because I already told you all I am crazy…I wasn’t joking, I decided that if I didn’t feel good, I was going out and I was going to look good. I had no voice, most days I squeak and when I am not squeaking, insert that smokers cough we talked about earlier. I have, in addition to lupus, a fabulous lung disease so it hurts to simply breath most days, inhale, exhale..deal with the pain and keep it moving. Therefore, walking long distances, hell, walking across a room sometimes wears me out. I have become a mosey type person who is never in a hurry.
This awesome pic is from one of my many, many…many hospital stays where I am good and puffed up from the steroids, and can barely breathe but took the oxygen off for the camera (because I’m a little vain). During this particular stay, there were swollen lungs, liver, and heart. Shortly after this stay, it was thought that my brain was shutting my body down so off came the hair. Who is grocery shopping for me after a long hospital stay? That would be me…in the handicapped spot…walking, not looking sick. Let me know when you can see swollen organs from your parking spot.
I don’t share all of this for any type of sympathy, screw your sympathy, it pays no bills nor buys any food. I share these pictures and this story so you can take on a different perspective of what handicap looks like. You don’t get to decide who is deemed worthy for that prime real estate unless you are actually law enforcement. Then I will be happy to explain myself but chances are, as long as the placard is displayed, they should not be giving me any problems so why are you? One more time for the folks in the back….YOU HAVE ONE LIFE TO LIVE. Go live yours and let me live mine.
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