It’s like waiting in line for your life. Everyone ahead of you is pushing a full cart. Those behind, balance to keep from dropping necessities. The hour is late, time is short. You can’t stand their predicament, they don’t recognize yours. You never seem to get anywhere, except in the way of progress. Apologies are your specialty. You won’t call because they’re busy. They stop calling because you never do.
Branding yourself a burden is an ingrained imposition.
I just bought 2 blouses and wanted a couple buttons moved. The seamstress talked me into altering the sleeves instead. I left. Wrestled all the way home, afraid those long sleeves I couldn’t wait to wear would never come home. I wanted to turn around but couldn’t. She made it clear; this was smarter. I would look the fool. Going back, knocking on her overworking door, interrupting her business, calling her up those basement stairs again, undoing what’s been done. I’d be an imposition.
I paid $120 for 2 more shirts to hang with the crowd of short sleeves loitering in my closet. And to top it all off, when I called the women with the quick scissors, asking if it were possible to re-lengthen them, I blamed myself. “My fault. I should have kept to my guns and done what I came to do.” No admittance on the other side. No…sorry for my part. She kindly offered a credit toward my next needling.
Being an imposition is tiring. (Not to mention expensive). It’s not anyone’s fault I don’t speak my thoughts, can’t open my mouth, can’t believe in myself. No one has ever told me: You are an imposition. Ever. It’s a shameless voice that comes as a kid. A big tall bully behind your mind.
The trap of beating yourself up is hard to break. It only took 20 minutes to escape this time, but it still ran away with valuable energy. I’m learning to forgive myself. It’s hard being patient with a recovering imposition.
My husband brought me flowers today. No, he did nothing wrong. He’s reminding me how Christ makes everything right ~ everything beautiful in its time. Including me.