Winter of 2003/2004 I was in San Diego. One of the best years of my young life. Honestly, almost every year was a little bit better. Life was good.
I was in San Diego while my boyfriend (now husband) finished his degree as an exchange student at SDSU. I was attending Mesa Community College while working odd jobs that I could find and living the life of a student in a house of 12 other people. California was great with the beaches and the sunshine and the fact that I was far, far away from all of my problems.
While working and taking classes I was trying to find a way to publish my novel and become a very famous, brooding author. That was my dream and yet I was too shy to share it with people. I didn’t think anyone outside of my boyfriend would think that I could do it. I was having anxiety attacks going into new places (which was just about everywhere) and one such attack kept me from getting a good, solid job that could have kept me from having to work all the temporary jobs.
I was trying to get my anxiety under control, but was too ashamed to tell anyone. It didn’t help that I was having family issues back home and didn’t know what to study while paying for classes, etc.
Barnes and Noble
One day I was in Barnes and Noble because book stores are the greatest thing on earth, when I saw that they were hosting a book signing with an author that weekend. The author had written a book about getting and agent and writing books, (I honestly can’t remember the name of the book and after five more moves after that I no longer have the book). I wanted to go right then and there, though I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to be able to get there without an anxiety attack. I determined I would try and that if all else failed I would just pretend like I was there for books and ‘happened’ to be eavesdropping the whole time.
Stupid? Well, that’s just how my social anxiety worked. I needed to have some sort of excuse for why I was somewhere and the idea of telling people I was there to learn how to sell my novel to an agent so that I could become a famous author, just wasn’t going to cut it in my mind. I was so afraid of people scoffing or laughing or rolling their eyes.
Day Zero
The day came and for some reason I was late. I went with my boyfriend, which I’m almost certain was not my original plan because I ended to try and not have him around any thing that caused me such social anxiety that I was sweating and wanted to run away. Although I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t have gone into the store had he not been with me, telling me he was going to clear out the front row for me to sit there. I begged hi to stop and let me hang in the back, which he finally conceded to.
The other problem was that I was sick. I had just gotten through some antibiotics for strep throat and had my lingering asthmatic cough. If you haven’t ever heard an asthmatic cough it is really persistent and sounds worse than it is. Above all, it is annoying to people around you because it comes about every 30 seconds.
I had my tissues and was very embarrassed and self-conscious of the cough because it had always been a sore point in my family growing up. They would get annoyed that they couldn’t talk or hear the television or were plain annoyed by the constant noise I created with the sough. So I was prepared with lots of throat losenges and tissues, etc.
Misreading
At the end of the talk, which I coughed all through trying to hide the fact that I was coughing, the lady directly in front of me in the chairs (I was standing at the back about five feet from her. Still in the area of listening, but not in the seated area) turned directly to me and said she was sorry I didn’t feel good.
Misreading those words as actually heartfelt I replied, “Thank you” and allowed myself to let my guard down. For about a second.
She steamrolled over my thank you and went right into a fairly loud tirade on why I should have never left the house with the cough and shouldn’t be there behind her or in public and that I should think better of others next time. She was in my face and the very opposite of motherly. My boyfriend was across the way at the time, but must have seen the look on my face (I had no courage to even answer the lady. I just let her lecture me) and came to my rescue just as the lady was excusing herself. She looked my boyfriend in the eyes and told him that I shouldn’t be out in public and then she left.
From the outside
With all of this COVID19 stuff going on it is possible that you are on someone’s side in the story right now. The truth is, I don’t know if she was immune compromised or lived with someone who was. I don’t know if she was just a germ freak or was in a bad mood. I have no idea what her story was. And believe me, for days afterwards, as I worked through my anxiety and embarrassment, I ranted in my head over how rude she was. I defended myself with long lectures to myself. It took days for me to let it go.
She didn’t know what it took for me to even walk in to that store that night. But, I don’t know what it took for her to walk in there that night.
Grace = personal development
In the end, grace is something we give because we want it given to us. Even when we don’t feel like the person deserves it. But since when do we know the whole story to anything? We extend grace, mercy and forgiveness even when it’s unfair and makes us feel uncomfortable. That takes a lot of work, a lot of growth and it can be a long journey with one more after one more person to learn to extend grace to. But we have to be willing to keep learning and growing if we want to receive that same grace and mercy when we aren’t at our best, too.