The Night I Bawled My Eyes Out at a Sushi Restaurant
Where shame seeks to steal from and destroy us, solidarity lifts up and saves us.
I honestly don’t remember how we got on the topic. On Palm Sunday, Lisa and I tried out a new sushi restaurant. We chatted, ate, shared, and drank. As our conversation unfolded—flowing, twisting, turning, and doubling back, as they do—we started talking about how the combination of my disabilities, “Lang-ness”, and choices can be confusing, frustrating, and maddening to others. A predicament that’s only heightened by how, even though I’ve been disabled for fifteen years now, it’s only in the last year or so, I began to fully own, name, and understand it.
You know how some Europeans greet and goodbye with a kiss-kiss to each cheek? The day before, we bade arrivederci to two of our friends in Sicily—following Lisa’s lead—I also gave the two-peck farewell. “They were my second and third,” I told her proudly at dinner. “What are you, counting?” Lisa chuckled. “Just to three,” I laughed. Ah! I believe this was how we got on the topic. Because she then, kindly, pointed out how I did it “wrong”, because I also hugged them. It turns out, that’s going too far, because hugs are more intimate than the kiss-kiss.
This got us talking about how, sometimes, I can be socially awkward—by missing cues, or just being oblivious. On that topic, Lisa shared how when friends help us move, it can be quite off-putting how little I seem to contribute to an effort that is for our benefit. More than once, she’s found herself having to explain why “Lang is ______”, to people who love us. What is more, while the kiss-kiss episode, and some instances of us moving are what we specifically discussed, this predicament also applies to other similar group endeavors—like setting and cleaning up for group events, for instance.
When I learned I did the double-peck wrong, I felt a surge of shame well up within me. “As their friend, it’s important to move toward them, and do things their way,” Lisa gently reminded me. Shame’s pretty much a jerk though, as it nudged me to get defensive and explain how: “Well, I’m a hugger, and they should move toward me too! That’s what mutuality, a key part of relationships, entails.” As I feel into that moment, it occurs to me: Sarcasm is like the Dark Side of the Force. It is easy, feels oh so good, and is an excellent way to deflect (i.e., miss the point).
Then, as I sat with the memories of the many times, I have been the weak link, odd ball, or on the “outside looking in” during group endeavors—like moving, setting up, tearing down, etc.—I could feel a deep well of shame, buried way down inside me, rising and swelling within. The question was: What was I going to do with it?
All the “things” inside of us—shame, joy, sorrow, anger, despair, hurt, etc.—are energies that we need to move, in healthy ways. To the extent we don’t, we suffer and cause pain. To the extent we do, we thrive.
While Lisa shared some of her experiences with our friends regarding our moves, I honestly wanted nothing more than to keep defending myself, “run”, or change topics. Yet, captured by her kindness, a spirit of grace washed over me. So, I decided to listen—and allow the energy to process.
From her sharing, and my hearing, came mutuality. It was like Lisa’s kind honesty, combined with genuine curiosity, and unconditional love, was the key to me. It turns out, I’m quite a bit of a paradox. And, I find a lot of comfort in believing, I’m not the only one.
Part of what leads to our friends’ confusion, is that I am a quite physically able person. At least at face value. While I am physically fit—from the hiking accident that led to my disabilities, I lost all my peripheral vision and depth perception. What is more, I also have a severe traumatic brain injury (TBI), which should have killed me. Yet, while I quite literally have brain damage, last year I got a doctorate.
That said, the combination of my visual and mental disabilities leads to me being substantially slower than most everyone else in basically any everyday task. What is more, in group dynamics—not only do I take to longer process and evaluate, before I actually do anything—my brain will frequently short circuit a bit. I’ll become frozen with indecision, stuck on a matter, or paralyzed by all the moving parts and pieces of people and things to do. As Lisa and I shared, this “truth” about me came into focus for the first time. I could also see how it even affects me when I’m alone—whether I’m working, adulting, playing, or otherwise. Furthermore, she helped me realize, in group efforts, if someone tells me what to do—or I’m the one in charge—my damaged brain functions in a substantially less mutually frustrating way.
That said, while our conversation was manifesting all manner of tangible fruit, not all of it “tasted” great. Hand-in-hand with insight, understanding, and ways to do things better, came the shame. As I sat with and uncovered all manner of past experiences; the times I felt awkward, alone, out of place, stuck, frozen, paralyzed, less than, and weird bubbled up. In other words, the shame kept growing and growing and growing …
And then, the damn burst.
“Sometimes it’s really hard being me,” I confessed to Lisa, with tears streaming down my cheeks, and ugly sniffles … as servers walked by and people sat around us in a restaurant … in Sicily! With compassion on her face, and love in her eyes, Lisa reached across the table and held my hand.
We sat there. Gazing into one another, holding each other tightly, for time untold. And since that moment, I can feel my well of shame being refilled with solidarity’s radical love and inclusion. My story of otherness and exclusion is being retold as one of togetherness and inclusion. What was divided is being united. And isn’t that what Easter’s about?
With that in mind, I leave you with a little blessing:
May your day be rich with radical love, full of inclusion, awash with healing, and sweetened with solidarity.
Hugs & Love,
Lang (aka“Dr. Love”)