That's the one hit wonder song of the late nineties by Chumbawumba. I'm not going to provide the link but it's there on Youtube if you're desperate to hear it. It's not my favourite tune but it has a certain soccer and logger lout charm. I never knew who it was by nor the lyrics but now thanks to the internet and Youtube I do and I still don't know quite how to manage this new knowledge.
Right now I'm finishing a plate of M and M's (I love eating the colours) that I just bought this evening at the local Shoppers Drug Mart. For those readers unfamiliar with Canada this is a massive drugstore and pharmacy chain throughout my country. Most of the staff are Filipinos or other immigrants earning barely more than minimum wage. Last month I got my thryroid supplement prescription there but from now on I'm getting it at the pharmacy at Costco where the staff are paid a living wage and the cost of the prescription is considerably cheaper. Win-win.
I went to this Shoppers Drug Mart for a particular reason this evening. Last night after dinner I went there to buy a jug of milk. A dreadful experience. I live in one of the shabbiest neighbourhoods outside the Downtown Eastside in Vancouver, aka Downtown South. In the nearly thirteen years of my occupancy here I have grown particularly tired of having to cope with the crap on my front doorstep, especially since they opened a liquor store next door eight years ago. There goes the neighbourhood. Going out in the evenings turned into a traumatizing ordeal and I soon began to simply stay in till the next morning once I returned home for dinner.
Now we are in June and the brilliant evenings compel me to venture outside, though usually I resist temptation. At times I have gone out to the local Shoppers for milk or a short neighbourhood stroll, but slaloming my way through idiots, drunks, panhandlers, addicts, smokers and other idiots became very stressful and I would arrive home to my little apartment feeling exhausted and stressed just following a ten minute outing.
Last night was even worse. It was traumatizing. When I got home I was coping with a powerful PTSD trigger, my first in several months and could barely cope. In the morning I still felt a bit ragged but improved as the day wore on.
Then I got the brilliant idea of going out anyway for maybe ten minutes per evening just to fight this dragon. I retraced my route, and the usual idiots were out and about. Somehow I no longer felt vulnerable. I went to the Shoppers where I bought M and M's and also returned my special Shoppers points card to the sales clerk. He said I am the first person who has done this and he tried really hard to talk me out of it. I replied that the amount of money I would have to spend is not a justifiable effort to secure a lousy ten dollars worth of points. I added that even though I am a low income earner it is also a matter of personal dignity, that I quite dislike this idea of grasping for the last available dollar.
I am home now. I feel content and secure. I don't know if I have slain this dragon of fear and trauma but I think it's been dealt a mortal wound.
No comments:
Post a Comment