It happened in the waiting room
It happened in the waiting room….
….and was totally out of the box.
Curious? Let’s go for it!
It was a physicians office, of all places. Geez, who would have thought, coming out in a physicians waiting room. A waiting room that contained at least 4 other folks, one of whom had a walker.
Our story proceeds. The medical assistant emerged from the back office, calling the name of the woman with the walker. Time slowed to an uncomfortable stop. We collectively watched as the woman with the walker struggled to rise from her chair. Once. Twice. Nope. Not happening. No one, including the medical assistant or me, with my back issues, came forward to assist her. All of us were frozen.
From my mouth (my mouth?!), a, heretofore, unknown cheerleader burst out of her closet. Pom-pom’s waving. Ok, no pom-poms, but in a cheerleader’s loud sing-song voice, directed at the woman with the walker. “Alright, you can do this! I know it! We’re with you! Yes!” and a few more supportive (and loud) chants. (I wasn’t popular enough to be a high school cheerleader, so why the hell not now?) The woman, trying to rise, erupted in laughter, prompting some extra ballast, made it to her feet, and grasped the walker’s handles.
We-all-breathed. With such relief.
My newly emerged cheerleader persona? Could I have ever imagined her arrival in years past? No way. I was the proverbial ‘good girl.’ Personal shame permeated if I behaved outside the bounds of accepted social behavior. Puhlease, loudly cheerleading in a doctor’s waiting room? My mother would have been mortified!
No way to live. Censoring my human uniqueness for fear of outward judgment. Enforcing the restriction of not breathing into my wholeness as a human being. A deadly, deadly pox on my journey to….me. (Hey, what can I say? I like me.)
Oh, wait, bet you’re wondering how I get there - to my cheerleader and exploring the path to my particular wholeness. I can’t say for you, but for me, it was climbing on the raft to joy. You got it. Noticing when I experienced joy (aside from the highs of my serious dark chocolate and Dr. Pepper addictions.) Happiness, contentment, a deep sense of calm, and even exuberance, especially when my cheerleader comes out to visit. And, wow, I’ve been seeing a lot more of her lately.
If the TV show Candid Camera still existed and filmed me, I might feel embarrassed. (OMG, just LOOK at what she’s doing!) On the other hand, just how bad can open-hearted joy be? Hmmm?