The incident that precipitated my contacting the Braille Institute took place in a grocery store.  In case you didn’t read about it in an earlier post, it basically involved me and an enormous pillar; one second I was heading for the bulk items section and the next I was flat on the ground, having had a head on collision with the pillar.  Joe and I agreed it was time for me to get a white cane.

Jump ahead many months and I have my cane and I am learning from a great instructor and the grocery store is still my nemesis.  I know that if I can get the courage to use Z in the grocery store, it will make shopping so much less stressful, but I just couldn’t pluck up the courage, until a few days ago.

I left for Ralphs (our local grocery store) with Z folded and in my hand, giving myself a pep talk to help with getting some courage. I got outside and I thought about unfolding her, but I didn’t.  I walked the half block up to Sunset and the 2 blocks east on Sunset toward Ralphs with Z still folded in my hand.  Then I came to the light and stopped.  The light turned green and I didn’t cross.  I waiting through 2 lights, trying to talk myself into unfolding Zelda and finally, I did it.  I walked to the curb, waited for the light to change and crossed the street to Ralphs.

I know that I have been writing a lot about my reticence to use Z in my neighborhood; trying to explain it to you and to help myself understand as well.  I keep coming back to the same conclusion; I am terrified of the attention Zelda will bring to me.  I have loved being able to live with anonymity, to go through the city as if I were invisible, and I know that won’t be possible anymore.  But, the alternative, if I don’t use Zelda, is potentially dangerous.  I have to get the fuck over myself.

So, I cross the street, walk through the Ralphs parking lot and in through the sliding doors. The entrance is often the most congested part of the market and the part that causes me the most anxiety.  I usually move through the crowd trying to make myself as small as possible, afraid every second of what or with whom I may collide.  This time, people stopped and moved to the side and let me through.  They stared, but not with cruelty, and they got silent, but there was no disdain in the quiet.  They may have felt some pity or curiosity, but all I cared about was that I had walked into the grocery store without feeling paralyzed by my own anxiety. I felt the spotlight on me, but it was something I could get used to.

Then, the spotlight became a strobe light.  I passed the row of checkout counters and one of the Ralphs employees called out,”Do you need any help shopping miss?” I didn’t pause or turn around, just said no thank you and kept walking.  It actually made me smile. He was being nice and I felt like I had stepped into a new part of the reality of this whole white cane thing, into the thick of it really, and I was proud of myself.

I finished my shopping, unscathed, and continued on to the pet store and then home.  I didn’t fold Zelda up until I got to the top of my stairs.