There’s a women standing in front of me at the
grocery store. I can see her fidgeting, shifting her weight back and forth. She
glances my way and gives me the “what is taking so long” look as she rolls her eyes.
I shrug and smile. She turns back around. I notice she doesn’t have much in her
cart.
After the person in front of her is finished, the cashier asks, “How
is everything today?” Of course the cashier had no way of knowing what was
coming next. This woman begins to unleash a verbal onslaught about everything
that is wrong with the way the cashier is doing her job, the way the store is
being managed, how she couldn’t find anything she was looking for, and
basically how she could fix everything that is wrong in the world.
If this event would have happened a year ago, I would have kept my
distance and tried not to engage this person. I would have chalked it up to
some sort of mental illness or some issue she was having that didn’t concern
me. Essentially, I would have minded my own business. I would have thought,
“What is wrong with this lady?” I would have said nothing.
But that was before.
I try to edge up closer. I move from behind my cart to the front of
my cart. She is still carrying on. I
catch a glimpse of the cashier who is trying to interject an apology, but isn’t
making much ground. “Excuse me. . .” I’m almost yelling but the women stops to
take a breath. “It seems like you are having a rough day. What happened?”
She looks at me quizzically, and then I can see tears
welling in her eyes. She’s not yelling any more, but her pain is speaking
volumes: “My mother is near the end of her life, and I’m trying to get back to
the hospital,” she said.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. But thank you for asking,” she says. “My husband passed
away last year, we had no children and she is the last of my family.” As she
continues talking, the cashier rings her up and before I know it, she is
pushing her cart out the door.
As I make my way out to my car, I notice her waiting
outside. She stops me. “I am so sorry for yelling. I knew I shouldn’t come to
this store, it always makes me upset.”
This makes me smile. “I don’t think it’s the store; sometimes we are all
under stress that no one else understands and it makes us do things we wouldn’t
normally do.” She reaches out to hug me. “Thank you for understanding.”
You may or may not fully understand what I did that day — or
why. You may question whether or not you’d have the balls — or compassion. Some
people naturally engage with others; it takes some work for the rest.
How can we possibly heal trauma in line at the grocery
store? One interaction at a time. You
really want to make a difference? Say something. Say something with care. Or
simply engage.
I shared this story with an acquaintance and she confessed she had a note next to her laptop that reads:
Lady in FF Oct. 15 (Tues.), 2013: “I just wanted to say thank you for making me smile and thank you for reminding me what’s important in life.” All my acquaintance had done was happily engage with a child who did not belong to either woman in line at the store. It can be so simple.
I shared this story with an acquaintance and she confessed she had a note next to her laptop that reads:
Lady in FF Oct. 15 (Tues.), 2013: “I just wanted to say thank you for making me smile and thank you for reminding me what’s important in life.” All my acquaintance had done was happily engage with a child who did not belong to either woman in line at the store. It can be so simple.
People in pain sometimes act out in aggressive (or passive)
ways. Some have so much trauma that they
don’t even know the way they feel isn’t “normal.” They may have been infected
for so long that they actually start to feel trapped by their own emotions,
which come out in all sorts of ways — most of which make no sense to the
waiting judgment of others.
But you can do something to help them heal. You can remind
them that better times are possible. They don’t need judgment; they need
compassion and empathy. They need to know someone believes in them and that
they are worthy of love.
You might have the chance to do that the next time you’re in line at the store.
You might have the chance to do that the next time you’re in line at the store.
To stay up to date with the latest from Shenandoah Chefalo and Garbage Bag Suitcase, sign up for our email newsletter at www.garbagebagsuitcasce.com, or find us on Facebook at Garbage Bag Suitcase