Awesome Disabled

I teach at summer school this summer. I have never taught summer school before. Apparently, I need to send away my photocopying to a third party, because we’re not supposed to make copies at the host school.

But we were supposed to have sent the materials away before the end of the regular school year, and, chaos goblin that I am, I missed the deadline by a country mile. So I found myself needing to print a bunch of stuff right before the start of the school year. I know that my local public library offers free printing, so I thought that would work.

I pulled into the library parking lot, and I could feel my heart in my throat. My breath came in short gasps. The parking lot is always packed (which, yay for public services! But also boo because packed parking lots are my biggest stressor), and is poorly designed and makes it easy for us to get blocked in. I have avoided this parking lot for the last few years, but in my summer school stress, I forgot about it. I found a spot and shakily walked in.

I know they say that libraries are quiet, but I honestly find this one really loud, which also stressed me out. I also forgot that we need our library cards and PIN numbers for printing. Of course, I couldn’t remember my PIN number, and I didn’t know where my card was. So I went to the front desk.

“Hi! How can I help you?” chirped the overly cheerful librarian. She reminded me of a cuckoo clock figurine, if it were a librarian in the clock instead of a cuckoo.

“I, um, need some help printing some documents.” I said.

“Okay! All you do is sign in with your card number and PIN–“

“What if I forgot them?”

“Okay! Can you find your card?”

I fumbled in my purse, and eventually pull out a card with a stickie note on it. It had my PIN on it. Whoopsies.

“We really don’t encourage you to put the PIN on the card itself, because if the card gets lost–“

“Okay,” I mumbled, not taking the stickie off.

She took my card.

“Hmmm,” she said. “This isn’t working! When did you get this card?” Smile still intact, she cocked her head at me. I fumbled through an explanation. By this point, I was getting overwhelmed. I was stressed about the course, stressed about parking, and stressed about talking to this cuckoo clock lady. And I still was no closer to getting the printing.

This went on for an incredibly long time, her wound-up friendly smile and face cocked to the side, eyes unseeing. All I needed were some sheets! Eventually she gave me another card, to which I immediately stuck a stickie with the PIN number, and I lined up to print. The line was long, and I was fatigued. I was fumbling with the printing app trying to get it to work.

Eventually it was just too much, and I walked out. I ended up paying to print at Staples, because it wasn’t as loud, and the cuckoo clock lady wasn’t there, and I knew I wouldn’t be chastised about PIN numbers.

Of course, looking at it objectively, this is all a massive overreaction. It would not have hurt me one bit to have waited in line for another 10 minutes, or to suffer through one more conversation with cuckoo clock lady. But my body didn’t know that. All my body knew was that I had to get out of there now.

There is a book about trauma called The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk. I keep borrowing it from my library’s Libby app, but I’m too afraid to read it. I’m worried that I will be re-traumatized by reading a book on trauma. What I gather is that it talks about how our body remembers our traumas, even when we don’t consciously remember or understand them. I feel like my body was definitely keeping the score in the library.

The local public library had unfortunately been a site of many traumatic experiences for me. When my oldest kiddo was younger, I tried to bring her to the library, to encourage reading and community involvement. I took her for reading time and early literacy classes, as well as to sign out books. Every time, I had to face that fakking parking lot, panic coursing through my veins. In the summers, I would bike with the kids in a chariot, and that was a little easier, but still exhausting for me.

One time, Lis ripped a book page. I sheepishly brought it to the front desk and apologized. The librarian looked at me with disdain and said, “You need to watch your children better.” I thought about explaining that Lis is spectrumy and runs away, plus I have a second, littler one that I need to watch over. I was worried about my kids’ safety and was trying to be everywhere at once, but somehow I messed up and the page ripped and I’m so sorry, and I’m doing my best.

I didn’t say that. But my body remembered it.

So when I needed printing done, I didn’t feel safe at the library. I don’t know if I will ever feel safe at the library. I’ve considered trying to find another “home library” but I don’t have the spoons right now. I hate being a “library orphan” because I love libraries. Maybe this will all sort itself out, but I’ll have to wait and see.