Petty resentment.


I bought a bookcase today.

A simple, used, wooden bookcase that will solve some of my storage issues for the office, while allowing the stained glass lamp I purchased to rest on the top shelf, gently lighting the room.

All good, until…  I find out it was sold by the Vice President and his wife (he’s part of the Board of Directors that I’m on for the homeowners association of this senior mobile home park).

All good, until…  I realize that he’s going to help me lift it and put it into my car.

All good, until…  I get it home and realize that I’m weak as a kitten and can’t do more than wrestle it out of my car with the help of my business partner (a 74 year old woman).

So, it stands in the driveway until I can either:

– Get out of my own way and ask for help, or

– Have enough energy to wrestle it up the stairs so that I can then bounce it corner to corner to manage the weight and get it down the tiny hallway into the back bedroom.

Heaven forbid that me, a Liberated Woman, get gracefully to the point where I can ask for help.

And, you can bet that I very much resent the fact that men get better looking and don’t lose their strength so quickly as they age.  Yes, I’m being petty, as I realize that I have an underlying condition.  But !

COPD Weaker Muscles

Even with the results of a recent poll in front of me, showing that I am not alone in suffering muscle weakness, I still can’t bring myself to back down and ask for help.  Even when it’s offered (as Brad offered).

As the P!nk song says, “I’m a hazard to myself”.

I’m trying to get better and get out of my own way, but the battle to fight the rearing of one’s ego is quite a war to fight.  Pride.  Independence.  Dependency.  Helplessness.  So many mixed emotions, and it’s all wrapped up in my Liberated Woman self-image.

No answers here, but I’m working on fixing this particular stumbling block and learning to accept that which I cannot change.

2 thoughts on “Resentment.

  1. Dang. It’s 50 degrees here and I’m FLUSHED. My my my my. Gotta thank the Good Lord for making things that fine…. (thanks for the share btw). Your predicament is why they call it ‘aging gracefully’. I understand the need for independence and the fact that women of our generation were hard wired to be so. But at some point sometimes one must admit that their body has failed them and ‘rely on the kindness of strangers.’ Heh. (Sorry for that last bit, but for whatever reason Blanche Dubois and “A Streetcar Named Desire” popped into my head. Maybe it was the well seasoned beef cake?

    Liked by 2 people

  2. You’re right. I get it, logically. It’s accepting it emotionally that is taking so long. I hate being vulnerable. Weak. Less than.

    Plus, I can tick folks off metely saying “hello”, so I give folks a wide berth, but especially those folks I know and don’t want to tick off.

    We’ll see how long it takes me to make the leap. So far, I’m at 20 hours and counting. Ha !

    Liked by 2 people

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