Man, you've got to have buckets of patience to be disabled. If you are going to survive you've got to learn to let the small things go. Further, you've got to be able to recognize what's small stuff. This is both the blessing and the curse of disability. Personal growth is forced on you - grow or stew in bitterness and anger. There is no other choice. It's a choice that I think might just be good for everyone, but the non-disabled sometimes seem to be able to step over the need to develop a sense of proportion.
Yeah, I'm leading up to something. I went into the liquor store tonight to pick up some beer. It was a tough go. They were restocking one part of the store and redesigning another. My normal route was blocked with boxes of wine, carrier carts full of vodka, step stools for climbing high. I had to take a breath and then begin to scout a passageway. It was quite convoluted and at times I had to go in the opposite direction so that I could get to a pathway leading back.
I get to the beer section and pick up some beer loading it into my carrier bag. Once done it was full and I was carrying it while driving back. Again, making my way labouriously thorough the store. Now, here's the thing. Big deal. I had to thread my way through the store to get where I wanted. At least I got to see sections that I never look at. Some of the bottles were worth the trip. Big deal that it took me longer. Big deal that I had to ask, once, for something to be moved. Big deal. In the great scheme of things, it doesn't matter.
But on the way back a woman was standing trying to select a wine. My bag was heavy and balanced precariously on my belly. It truly was a beer belly at that moment. Anyways, I used my sweeter than honey voice to say, 'Would you mind letting me scoot behind you?' Well, you'd think I'd stuck a cold beer up her ass! She harrumphed and made a big deal out of having to move. It may have taken her 4 seconds to move and let me pass but it was a big deal.
Can you imagine what it would have done to her if she had to thread her way through the store, my God she would have needed therapy. A small thing upset her. I can't imagine her coping with a cold let alone a life in a wheelchair.
Big stuff - over come it.
Little stuff - let it go.
Now if I could embroider, I'd make a pillow.