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On Wednesday, I stepped onto a train during rush hour and watched the last few seats fill up.
I thought about needing a seat, needing to preserve some energy to get through the day. I thought about how my knees had started paining on Monday night as I’d settled down to sleep, and how very hard Tuesday had been on them. I thought about being perfectly within my rights to ask someone for a seat.
And then I thought about how I looked, healthy and really young and dressed in a cheerful t-shirt. And how there were other similar-looking people standing around, so how impertinent I would appear if I asked someone to stand up for me. And how I’d never worked up the courage to ask anyone for a seat before.
In the past I’ve rehearsed what to say in my head, ‘Excuse me, I’ve got leg problems/crook knees [or whatever inaccuracy I've decided is most likely to work, because 'I'm fatigued' or 'I'm chronically ill' would cause delays and doubting looks and questioning]. Would someone mind giving me a seat?’ But then the words have never left my mouth. Because… what if they refuse? What if they resent me? But worse than that, of course, is the thought that I might be asking someone who really needs that seat who I’ve misidentified as someone who doesn’t, just as I’m expecting people to misidentify me. And I can’t get the words out.
I stood on the train, trying not to fall over, shifting my weight so my knees both got a turn at breaks, waiting for someone nearby to get off the train, get off the train, why is no one getting off the train, please get off the train. I wished I’d brought some music to distract me. I wished I could overcome the social conditioning and the fear and the shame and just ask someone. I wished I could stop being so silly. And, as ever, remained as I was.
Eventually, a lot of people wanted to leave the carriage, and the only way to clear the way for them was for me to get into a seat someone had just vacated. I sat down at last and settled my legs at a carefully chosen angle. I felt guilty for the couple of minutes before I had to get up for my stop because there was a young man just near me who didn’t have a seat. I hoped I wouldn’t go through the same thing on the bus, and wondered what I was going to do the next time this happened.
Life really does suck sometimes *hugs*
That must be so hard. It’s so easy when one is not facing these issues that they don’t all show. I’d be the first to stand up to let someone sit down if they looked like they needed it, but I guess I would find it difficult to accept that someone who looks fit and healthy needs that seat more than I do (and I say that having gone through several years of intense knee pain with Osgood Schlatter’s disease and excessive cartilage behind my knee caps in my teens).
I guess I will try to think deeper about other people needing that seat more than me in the future but as mimbles has already quite rightly done, I think the best thing I can send you at the moment is:
((((hugs))))
*hugs*
Oh, that does sound rough. I know what you mean about not wanting to ask . . . it’s bad enough to have to ask, but if you’re refused, that’s even worse.
“Life really does suck sometimes” – yes. And so can Sydney public transport :( :( :(
(Which I know is not the primary point of your post, but if the public transport was better and had more frequent/better/etc services, fewer people would need to stand; or perhaps you would only have to take one trip rather than two; or, or, or …)
Yeah I know Kristin :(.
Jo – I could concievably take one train and get off two stops further along – but then I have a fifteen-twenty minute walk that I just can’t handle. :(
Of course, it took me ages to figure out the best route, and when I move I’m going to have to do this all over again…!