Handicapped parking has a whole new meaning to me. I was always wondered why there were so many stalls and why in the heck did everyone using them seem fine.
My grandfather had one leg and never used them. He left them for those in need. Sadly now that is me.
We have a sticker and we may look fine but we are not. Shopping is a task, it has to be done but you do not have the energy, desire or time to do it. Then when you finally do, you are anxious, stressed, confused. I take a list but cannot remember where anything is, I want to buy something but it is too far to matter, I get sick to my stomach,I think too hard and then the headache comes. I have to still pay for the items and then people talk to you and you want to throw up. I try to find my "happy place" but there is none. I think about home, does Rob need me, has he fallen, does he need to go to the restroom, has he ventured outside?? I have been gone too long. Nothing you buy matters. I barely make it to the car. So does 20 steps matter -- yes it does.
So when you see someone using handicap parking, best thing you can do is probably give them a hug.
