New Tennies

After dinner this evening Mom and I headed out to the mall with the sole purpose of getting me a new pair of sneakers. She and I had been on Google chat earlier in the day when she suggested perhaps we go look for some 'new tennies'. I still smile every time I think of her writing that.

I thought: Will be a quick outing. Will go to Penney's only. Will buy Nike's because they are the only brand that has ever fit my feet. Will just be a few pairs to choose between. Will use the Golden Parking Pass. Will zip right into the shoe department in The Rolls. Will be the perfect time to go to the store--Tuesday night and the back-to-school shopping is not in full gear yet.

What really happened: I came home feeling frustrated and completely exhausted. I ate a gluten-free dairy-free brownie to 'deal with it'.

I'm writing this post because I want to share what often happens with outings. They are filled with mixed emotions, and not all are as successful as the movie outing was.

Even though we parked in the handicapped parking right outside the entrance to the shoe department the doors had no button to activate the doors. They were not automatic doors and we struggled to wheel me both in and out of the store. The customer service desk is located right by the door and no one offered to help.

Once we were greeted in the shoe department, no one offered to help us with anything. I realize this is the way the stores are now. I really miss going to buy shoes and having the folks help you out! That is one thing that has gone by the wayside since I got sick!

Thankfully Mom did all of the hunting for shoes, picking out options, opening and repacking boxes, lacing up shoes, pulling paper out of them, and so on.

One of the things I love most about my mom is her incredible ability to be in tune with me and to know what I both need and want. She is somewhat unaware of this gift, no matter how often I tell her how much it means to me. She has a 'knowing' about me that is the kind I could only hope to give my own child.

It ended up taking us a long time to find a pair of shoes that fit. Clearly, either Nike's have changed in the last ten years since I bought sneakers or my feet have changed!

I had trouble knowing what to look for in a sneaker since it's been so long since I've bought a pair. I'm used to going somewhere and being helped with the fitting.

It was hot in the store.

The hardest and most frustrating part though was how difficult it was to try on the many pairs of shoes, how difficult it was to stand up long enough to even see if the shoe was a possibility, and how sick I felt by the end of the trip because of all of the up and down and standing.

An outing like this is an example of the many emotions that my illness brings up for me.

On the one hand, I'm pleased that I could go to choose my own shoes. Yesterday in an attempt to archive old messages in my inbox I found an email to Carrie from 2006 stating that I had felt well enough to ride in the car with Mom to pick up Asher at the groomer. I was so excited, I told her, to be able to leave the house for something other than a doctor's appointment. It put into perspective where I am now compared to three years ago.

I'm humbled and blessed by the gift of a mother who knows what I need, when I need it, and how I need it. I'm blessed that she wants to spend time with me doing things like shopping for new tennies.

On the other hand, I'm angry that the doors aren't automated. What about my friends who go to the store by themselves? Why don't the sales clerks help at the shoe department when they see that you cannot get the things on your own? I wanted to be passive aggressive and leave extra opened shoe boxes just so the sales people would have more to put away when we left. They were standing around chatting the whole time we were there.

That's the external anger. Internally, I feel sad and frustrated that the simple task of buying a pair of shoes for the winter months is no fun. I'm used to getting a high just from the feel of a new pair of sneakers. Instead I just came home feeling deflated that it was so much work and so exhausting. I kept apologizing to Mom for taking so long at the store, making her have to work so hard to help me, etc. It's hard to watch her kneeling on the floor to help me put on a pair of shoes, when I feel like it's my turn to help her in life.

Right now, I just want to cry over the seemingly mundane and simple task of going shopping for a pair of shoes. Was it worth it to 'get out of the house' at this cost? Would I have been better off to top off what had been a good day by just watching an enjoyable show on TV? Would I have been more cranky if Mom had to go shopping for me than I am having gone along? Was it worth the ANS storm that I'm having now and the possibility of losing a night's sleep because of it?

It doesn't help that I feel guilty about feeling this way. I know the emotions are disproportionate to the actual event. I know they are irrational. Still, I feel what I feel.

One of the lessons I'm learning about chronic illness from the book Life Disrupted: Getting Real About Chronic Illness In Your Twenties and Thirties is that meltdowns over the little things are pretty common stuff. When everything else is completely out of control, we hope to somehow control the little things. When we can't, sometimes we lose it over the little things. I lose it over shoe shopping, a TiVo box that won't work, an iPod that freezes, a burned piece of toast. It's too hard to face the big stuff. Way too hard.

I'm determined that one of the two 'tennies' options we came home with will be 'good enough'. At least they were on sale! In the end, I know I'll enjoy my new shoes. I'll remember that the outing was hard, but I'll smile when I see the new shoes I picked out myself.

And now to hit the publish button before I chicken out over my 'authenticity'.

Blessings,

Emily

Photo: The two pairs of shoes I came home with because I was too tired to decide--a pair of Skechers and a pair of Nike's.