Self Check Out

Self Checkout


I had to grab a few things for dinner last night. I hate, I repeat hate shopping. No I am not your typical women in this regard. I generally find the whole experience appalling, from the assault on the senses to the constant push of things new and improved. Couple that with the rising cost of everything under the sun and an inability to buy what I truly want makes for an unpleasant experience on a good day. Add loneliness I can’t put my finger on and you may find me standing in the SELF checkout line in my sweat pants and a baseball hat with tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks like a glass of milk at the dinner table.

That is how you would have found me yesterday. I was buying food for dinner with my son. My daughter didn’t come. The relationship is very strained at the moment. Matt from Mary Free Bed is coming in the morning with my new computer/printer. I’m apprehensive about this for a few reasons. My apartment isn’t clean. I have a lingering cold thing happening and I’m in pain from my current biking brokenness. Plus receiving that computer is another step into the unknown which brings more questions. Another step into responsibility and growing up. Another step into commitment which I am not good at. Not that I don't want to be responsible and committed. I do. I really do want to be. But that is the problem with SELF. It’s sabotaging.

I stood there in line contemplating this subject matter. The lane I chose was the new and improved self check out model with an actual belt plus rollers. I thought by picking this “new and improved” lane I would be getting a new and improved experience. I watched every single customer struggle; each in a different way with the SELF checkout. The lady in front of me had to keep going to the end of the belt because her purchases kept bottling up at the end preventing the computer from receiving her next item. Her frustration mounted. She sighed. She ended her order and tried to pay. The machine wouldn’t accept her payment. Every register was in the same state of half finished, half functioning, half assed existence. The attendant was working harder running from register to register than she would have in a regular checkout lane. I looked over to the regular lanes. You know the ones I’m talking about. There’s generally a human standing at the register hopefully eager to do their job. They may even talk to you. Occasionally they smile as well. I had an instant longing to be in one of the lanes with a cashier.


Some days my life seems like a self checkout lane. It malfunctions. It jams up. Other people like a scanner read me wrong. Or I don’t make myself clear. It malfunctions. A head light is out. I need new tires and my transmission is shifting hard. Rent is going up along with everything else but my income is actually going down. The sense that I’m a complete odd ball uncomfortable in my own skin is on the rise. Maladjusted to life. This lane just isn’t working right. It all jams up at the end of the belt and I can’t process anything else.

I had a psychologist once tell me she believed I might be on the autistic spectrum. I remember her telling me this as I was standing in line. Aspergers she called it. I remember how I was offended. My mom used to tell me I was retarded; now I had a psychologist confirming it or so I thought at the time. I didn’t really know what autism was then but now I think she may have been right. My ears hurt from the overhead blasting music and the random employee announcement. Every lane has a monitor running with different “you must buy” ads. The colors in the store are magnified to the tenth power, and I can literally feel the hum of the mercury lights along with every beep and buzz of electronic devices all around me. I have no defense against the negativity surrounding me and I’m going it alone. I think of that psychologist again and curse her under my breath. Loneliness mounted as my lane finally cleared. I quickly checked my things out. I dashed out the automatic doors into the cool of the night. Sensory overload. The tears fell like hot oil on my face.


It‘s on these days that I long for the other lane. You know the one I’m talking about. Coffee in the morning, sharing the dreams we had during the night, wrapped up together in a flannel blanket stroking each other’s skin. Reading to each other. I’d rub your back as you stretch like a cat and as you yawn I stick my finger in your mouth. You of course would gag and WWF smack down would follow as you try to take me down and tickle me(not too much though ‘cause I can’t stand being tickled) ‘till I piss on the floor. Then it’s off to the shower to help each other prepare for the day. These moments I would not want to end but as “real life” beckoned me out the door I could face the day a little braver and more assured knowing that you left as well with me on your heart. Trust. This is what I imagine a morning in the other lane would be like. I’ve never had that.

I’ve succeeded through much prayer and acceptance to be okay with being alone, for the most part. I try to get outside as much as possible where I am reminded of God and his creation. I’ve tried to stay focused on doing the next right thing and asking him for guidance. I’ve asked him to fill that pit of loneliness that I was born with. Some days it’s not so noticeable. These days I can’t get away from it. I turned on the TV last night to distract myself from it. P.B.S. was running a documentary on Johnny Cash. I think it was mostly home movie clips. He and June are sitting on the couch with a few close friends and family around. He’s strumming his guitar and singing songs that had not yet been recorded. He starts singing about the beauty of nature and how it feeds his spirit but flesh and blood need flesh and blood. I get the feeling once again that my heart has been hi-jacked and somebody stole my words. I closed my eyes because they start to sting again. I love Johnny Cash. I’d marry him except he’s dead and his heart totally belongs to June. He’s another perfect choice for me.

In an attempt to quell these feelings of loneliness I have recently started posting and bantering back and forth with people on line. I’ve met a few of them. It’s been fun. There was one who sent me a private message about wanting to meet but said he was not “available” This is where the self sabotage kicks in without me even realizing it. It’s hard to see the movie when you’re the star of the show right? To make a long story short I started a shit storm on line totally ensuring that this guy would never want to meet me. I already knew a few things about him; just enough for me to know that he was “out of my league.” Eric told me he was definitely not my type which I took as code for “He’s not a loser and he has his shit together” which translates to “You’re really not his type Jody.” It proved to be so and that’s OK. In his own words he’ll make a “great friend.”

After the shit storm clouds dissipated he sent me another private message. In part it went like this: “It's worth it to take the time to learn to love yourself and to appreciate your own strengths. When you have done that, your life will blossom in ways that may be hard for you to contemplate now. Your best is yet to come.” When I first read that I cried because I thought once again I am being misunderstood. Hell I love myself so well that it hurts on a good day. Reading it again today it has new meaning. My strength today is knowing what my weakness is. At first glance it would seem to me and everyone else that loneliness is my number one weaknesses. It has proven to be in the past. Perhaps it is but at the core of that is a desire for true intimacy and that will be my strength in the end. I believe that God wants the best for me today. I may not always believe I deserve it, but I do believe that it is what God truly wants. Always. For this reason I know I don’t have to settle for anything less than Who I’d like to meet. God willing I won’t. That list is added too almost daily as I meet different people. They reinforce what I don’t want and almost always give examples of what needs to be added.

The more I do the right thing and love myself the lonelier it seems at times. A well meaning friend of mine said that maybe I couldn’t afford to be so picky given my circumstances. That was a lie I believed most of my life no matter what the circumstances were. Not anymore. I told him it’s because of my circumstances that I can’t afford not to be picky. And so I’ll stay in the self checkout lane for now. It’s okay there most days. I’m willing to stay there until the real deal comes along. Until then I’ll kick back with Johnny and wait…



Beside a singing' mountain stream
Where the willow grew,
Where the silver leaf of maple,
Sparkled in the morning' dew,
I braided twigs of willows,
Made a string of buckeye beads.
But flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
and you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.

I leaned against a bark of birch,
And I breathed the honey dew.
I saw a northbound flock of geese,
Against a sky of baby blue.
Beside the lily pads,
I carved a whistle from a reed.
Mother Nature's quite a lady,
But you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.

A cardinal sang just for me,
And I thanked him for the song.
Then the sun went slowly down the west,
And I had to move along.
These were some of the things,
On which my mind and spirit feed.
But flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.

So when this day was ended,
I was still not satisfied.
For I knew ev'rything I touched,
Would wither and would die.
And love is all that will remain,
And grow from all these seeds.
Mother Nature's quite a lady,
But you're the one I need.
Flesh and blood needs flesh and blood,
And you're the one I need.