Remember I told you that life was about remembering and forgetting?
Well if you didn't read that post, today was about remembering.
I sat in the waiting room for the doctor to call me. It's been a rough week for me, one that included moving my life (and the contents of our 5 year relationship) into my own little flatlet 8 kilometres from the place we once shared a home.
As I sat in my chair in a pile, the faces around me all seemed fixated on me simultaneously, as if I had an oblong head, large black eyes and purple fur. It could have been my disgustingly good looks, everyone aches to sniffle like a boss, and believe me, I was owning this!
Use Depression As Your Guide
Standing at the payment counter, I resentfully handed over my new credit card. It had been taken out as an emergency option to pay my unexpected deposit on my flatlet as well as the move and first months rent to get there. The swipe for the R1 200 doctors bill left me cold - and angry.
Being unwell is the tell tale sign that the Tan within, simply isn't happy. It happens to me every couple of months and of late, the gaps between ill-health and wellness have become smaller.
See, I thought I was fine and upstairs I am, but emotionally my physical ailments tell a different story. Your body is your compass, listen to it and it will guide you. As I trudge through Checkers, my heavy feet and slumped over body verify my emotional state. My soul left the building a couple of days ago, as if on vacation while I deal with life.
Face To Face With Toothless
As I blankly stare at the selection of water hose's in front of me (I think I landed up on auto-pilot at this stage) an obviously haggard and destitute young man approaches me.
My initial reaction is a cold one, I know what's going to come out of his mouth and it's going to be a sob story. While I'm the first to help a helpless and lost cause, I'm not in the mood to listen to someone's whining. I've got my own problems. No doubt he needs "R6 for a loaf of bread".
He starts rapping at me in Afrikaans, I catch fragments of familiar words I can make out between the pathetic grimace on his face. I tell him I don't have money, cash money. And then for some stupid reason I tell him I've got a card. My logic is that if he's going to bullshit me, I have a come back in the form of plastic. "Show me yours and I'll show you mine", I concoct. He's still pointing at his mouth, his teeth, his face. If you haven't gathered, my Afrikaans isn't that great.
His "recital" takes us to the medicine counter inside the store. He's apparently looking for Naeltjie olie (a Clove oil mixture you put on infected teeth, a cheap alternative to seeing a dentist) and while I'm inquiring with the pharmacist, he's being interrogated by store security behind me.
If you know me personally, you'll know that I'm pretty easy to manipulate. I have a soft spot for helping people that has been a trait since childhood (be sure to ask my mom about the time she came home from work and I had a friend, his mother and younger brother camping out in my room because they had nowhere to go) perhaps I'm just a problem solver :)
Wake Up Tan
As I stood paying for the Naeltjie olie at the counter, I resentfully handed over R40 as the pharmacist confirms that my mystery man had, in fact, visited the same counter 5 minutes before, just a few rand short of the transaction.
Why was he making this my problem? Why the hell must I pay for his stuff, I've got bigger problems, I'm not in the mood to do charity and I'm in credit card debt - again! Why couldn't I just say no, walk away and be done with it.
At this stage my patience has worn thing, again if you know me at face value, you would never be able to tell the difference between an irritated and an irate me, they look the same but feel different on the inside. I hand over the little brown bag, with an almost sarcastic 'There you go". He hails back praises of gratitude in my direction and I could have sworn he called me Tannie! (Afrikaans for auntie, usually said to older women by younger people).
My inner dialogue was something along the line of "Bet you he's gonna be drinking with the money he saved on those drops", the bitter version of myself pushed my trolley back down the aisle. Where the heck were those wall frame hooks I had been searching for? And then it hit me.
Swipe after swipe the woman at the checkout counter exchanges glances at me. "Would you like a plastic bag", she asks. She smiles gentle at me and I coax a feeble smile back in her direction. I had been so caught up in my own self pity that I had forgotten, until now, that I had just returned from a personal consultation with one of the best doctors in the country and received the best medication I could afford - because I can afford it. And yet, here's a man who cannot afford a dentist (for whatever reason he's downtrodden and out of luck) and is in need of something as inexpensive as a bottle of Naeltjie olie and I'm that neurotic, disbelieving and somewhat jaded individual feeling as if I'm being taken advantage of.
Of course in this day and age (and living in South Africa) we are constantly being taken advantage of, but regardless of the circumstances, it was a reminder to be grateful for what I had, when it felt like I had the world against me and I was "so broke".
As I leave the Checkers store the same man sits on the public bench near the exit of the store, he's eating a dry bread roll. I've just had a Wimpy burger, chips and a coke for R60. His Naeltjie olie cost me R34. I see the bigger picture.
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