bus driver made me cry

I cried the first time I rode that bus and I cried the last time I rode it.

If you go back a couple of weeks in this blog you'll see that I did NOT enlist the help of the handicap-bus when I first got the wheelchair.

I gambled on finding handicap parking spaces,
relied on the kindness of friends,
prayed for the kindness of strangers,
struggled
and suffered getting from my car to my classroom on a campus that is hilly no matter where you park.

When I started teaching a second summer class on a different campus, you know, my 8:00am oh-my-god-I'm-out-of-my-comfort-zone class, I knew I'd have no time between that early class and my later morning class in Montclair to play the parking spot game.
I HAD to call transport services and arrange a shuttle bus for myself.

Just like I HAD to relent and get myself a wheelchair in the first place.
I HAD TO get myself the chair so my knee could heal.

This is the summer of being forced to take care of myself.
This has been the summer of owning that I HAVE TO take care of myself.
My self esteem issues can roil around all they want.
In the meantime I need to work.
I need to function.
This injury has forced me to take care of me.

That first day on the shuttle bus was a little overwhelming.
I had to face my helplessness.
I had to allow myself to be taken care of.
Being in a wheelchair became more real the day I had to be buckled into a chair-lift and loaded onto that bus.

Teddy, the driver, took great care of me.
Strapping my chair to the bus floor
then strapping me in was an ordeal.
The unstrapping was an ordeal.
Getting the chair onto the lift was an ordeal.
Only a physically strong, patient person could handle doing all that for me
and he did.

That first day was tough for me.
I felt handicapped.
I was uncomfortable with the care and attention
but as I said before I HAD TO allow it to happen.
I felt weak,
helpless and guilty,
so I sat in the back of the bus and silently cried.

After that I got used to the whole process.
It was a necessity, like the wheelchair itself.
It was just something I needed to do to get from one place to another.

On that last day as Teddy buckled me in I told him that my semester was finished.
God willing I'd be totally healed by the Fall.
I'd no longer need the bus.

He said with a big smile and his West Indian accent
"It would be a pleasure to drive you again, you wanna know why?" he asked.
"Cuz your students love you...everyone love you. I've never see students act dat way toward a teacher before. They come 'round the bus and want to push you to class. Everyone happy to see you. They hug you. It's good to see a ting like dat."

As he went outside the bus to ready the chair lift I sat there like a buckled-in piece of cargo and cried. I'm crying now as I type this.

It's one thing to be told you are loved.
It's another thing for someone to notice how much other people love you.

I had no idea.

Maybe in this lifetime I'll get a clue.

*Lisa's Video Pick of the Day*
Self love sounds like a
"cliche... it's like some froofy san francisco hippie jibber jabber, and it's not!"
We get stuck in our heads and forget how lovable we really are.
Listen to Tarot expert Amanda on the issue of self-love.
click here or click below