What's Your T-Shirt?
Back when my kids were little, I made myself a disclaimer t-shirt. In hand-drawn letters with fabric marker it said, “I have a two year old...that’s why.”
This phrase covered a multitude of sins, so to speak. Perpetual shmutz on my shoulder. Mismatched socks. Telling the customer service person on the phone, “Night, night,” instead of good-bye.
I’d show up to speak at mom events wearing my t-shirt, and I kid you not, I could have bought myself a large Starbucks if I had a dime for every, “I need that shirt!” from my fellow moms of preschoolers.
Fast forward a couple of decades. I haven’t done it yet, but I’m tempted to make myself a t-shirt that says, “I’m in menopause...that’s why.”
It may be an unpopular thing to say, but stuff happens during menopause. I’m not presuming to speak for everyone. But for many of us, there are certainly head-nodding similarities. My t-shirt would help explain my faltering attempt to find that word, you know, the word that means, um, yeah... It would explain, without my having to intervene, why I’ve broken out in a sweat and dripped right on top of your sign-in sheet.
Personally, I’m a fan of a well-placed disclaimer. “You see, the reason why I’m...sweating, forgetting, stumbling, tearing up, clamming up is...” Unfortunately, this isn’t always in line with personal, professional, or even common-sense boundaries. And I’ve come to realize, if I wore some version of my t-shirt every single day, I wouldn’t be at all unique.
Cuz, guess what? We all have a t-shirt.
That woman in front of you at Trader Joe’s who’s dropped her card three times? Maybe her t-shirt says, “I just got the scan results.”
The person in front of you in line who is taking forever to order? “I have chemo brain.”
The friend at church who snapped at you in the parking lot? “It was five years ago today.”
In my work as a CBIS (certified brain injury specialist), I hear stories all the time of people dealing each day with the impacts of their injuries—memory glitches at the teller window, sudden unexplained exits due to stimulation overload, and blunt responses not intended to come out like that. But who wants to run around with a t-shirt that says, “I have a brain injury...that’s why.”
We encounter all shapes of human struggle every day. Many stemming from circumstances completely out of anyone’s control.
What if we moved through the world assuming each person we meet has their own t-shirt underneath the workout gear, the uniform, the fuzzy sweater?
I’m thinking the word grace might come into play. In a big way. A deeply human kind of grace. The kind that leaves room for the word that didn’t come. The reaction that seemed out of proportion. The person who took longer than they should have.
Maybe the best fitting t-shirt for us all?
“I’m human...that’s why.”