I had to go to the clinic today. I cut my toe on a piece of glass a few nights back, and it just didn't seem to be healing properly - red and still a bit painful when I walked. I didn't have an appointment, which at the clinic means your name goes on a list. And when all who had an appointment are seen, they start going down the list. I got lucky today. The place wasn't too crowded, and they also had 2 extra doctors who had volunteered. I was seen around 11, after having signed in a little after 8. It was good news - the redness and difficulty healing is because of where the cut is located. And I've lost another 11 pounds. As for the cut - patience.
What made the trip less boring, was the conversation that was being had by 4 people in the waiting room. Mind you, this is a free clinic. No one has insurance, and their income is limited - poor folks. The conversation was about clothing. It seems one of the people in this conversation believes that no matter how limited ones income, there is always a way, and a need, to dress to the 9's. And he was! He wore a designer button-down dress shirt, dress slacks (with a crease you could cut yourself on) and shoes that you could see yourself in. He showed everyone his designer socks (Millano, if I recall correctly) and told us he was wearing Hillfiger underwear.
The 3 others in the conversation found the situation laughable. And I have to say, even tho I was not part of the conversation and hadn't been staring at the man, when he started showing off his socks I had to lower my head to hide a grin. He said he not only cut back on his food and drink, but also his entertainment and untilities. All to afford to buy fancy clothes. When asked where he wears his clothes if he can't afford to go out - he responded that he goes for walks. Where does he walk? Malls, grocery stores, public parks, etc. Just to show off his clothes.
When he said this, I was taken aback. I had to take a closer look at the man. I first noticed that his hair had not been washed, he hadn't shaved anytime recently, and his fingernails were fairly long and dirty. The skin on his face and arms had that dull, dust-covered look. It didn't make sense. And as Judge Judy says - if it doesn't make sense, it's not true. I took an even closer look.
The collar of his shirt was worn thin and darkened around his neck. The reason the shirt was unbuttoned and worn in a 70's style, wasn't because he wanted it that way, a button was missing. The slacks had a sheen down the upper half, a sign of long wear. And the heels of his shiny shoes were visibly frayed and worn down. It hit me.
This was a man ashamed of his own poverty. So much so, that he would go to great extremes to present himself publicly as something he was not. I suddenly felt such saddness for this man. I wanted so badly to say something to him that could make him feel whole. But I bit my tongue, knowing if I said anything it could shatter this illusion he had created for himself. And for all I knew, this illusion kept him sane. I also didn't want to intrude on a conversation I was not party to - and that at times was too heated.
The conversation continued - the three laughing and pointing out his ridiculous ideas and he defending his decisions with great vigor. My mind wandered to a place where I myself had felt shame at being poor - in a yahoo pool chat lobby. Someone had remarked that I was probably poor and on welfare.
I denied on was on welfare (I'm not), but couldn't bring the truth to the surface and admit I was poor. I lied. I said I wasn't. The second the words had left my finger tips - I felt it. I too had fallen into the pit that has been created in our society. The pit where the poor, the mentally ill, the over-weight, the unattractive and the old have been banished. To suffer quietly in humiliation and to feel of no worth.
As I thought about it. I realized that I have to make a change. I need to step back and see myself for who I am, what I desire to be, and what I can give to others. To look at myself and not be critical, but embrace the good things about myself. I've been told to do that by people who know and care for me, but I have refused to do it. I think I will now.
My hope is that what I have tried to give to others will now flow even more freely. Accepting myself for who I am will break down a wall I have built to protect myself. The light that I know has always been there, will shine on me as well.
I am beautiful. I do have worth. I can be loved.
No comments:
Post a Comment