Day 26 Stuff I Wish You’d Quit Saying: It’s JUST…
It’s JUST a tumor…
Yeah, stuff you JUST don’t say. It is the minimalisation of something that may be seemingly small to one and insurmountable to another. And it is casual speak that screams volumes to the one who is impacted by it the most.
A year ago I wrote the viral Vomit blog and the people that commented, “It’s JUST a stomach bug!” should have been here this week to witness what “JUST” a stomach bug looks like. It is an unraveling like nothing you have ever seen. Granted I have an autoimmune condition, stuff that might make you “JUST” a little sick, knocks me on my butt for 2 or … 9 days.
[Tweet “It is the minimalisation of something that may be seemingly small to one and insurmountable to another.”]
I remember trying to wake up from my low potassium semi-comatose state and stop the vandals, our toddler sons, from putting waterproof mascara on the baby. That was the least of the damage before Justin go home. And, no they weren’t unsupervised, “JUST” the 14-year-old was home. I vaguely heard my poor husband flipping out over the apparent destruction of the pantry. I never saw it personally, but I heard we “JUST” need to replace the sugar, flour, cereal, rice, corn starch, dry oats, spiral pasta, angel hair pasta, and rigatoni.
“JUST” a few things.
“JUST” a little mess.
All because I caught “JUST” a stomach bug.
Of course, I am guilty of this too. I say it to my kids more than anyone, “It’s JUST a little scrape.” Or, “It’s JUST your allergies.” But it occurs to me it is the trivializing of something that doesn’t seem so nominal to them.
I never want them to believe me uncaring or unsympathetic.
I never want anyone I am communicating with to assume that I don’t care or that I find their issue trifling.
[Tweet “I don’t want to communicate that I don’t care or that I find their issue #trifling.”]
I have been entirely aware how often I am using “JUST” in so many of my interactions. But most recently a snake was crossing the road in front of our home. I stopped my car and got out and took pictures of the massive serpent. Later, when I showed my husband the pictures, he lost it. He hates snakes, wait despises snakes. He objected to how close I got to the trespasser. He protested my nonchalant approach. He was struck to his core with horror.
But, it’s JUST a snake.
Granted, a rattlesnake. But they don’t bother me.
A couple of days later there was a spider in the shower. I screamed. I hollered. I begged Justin to save me. I closed my eyes. I hovered in a corner. I wouldn’t look until it was flushed TWICE.
Justin didn’t understand the fuss.
It’s JUST a spider.
I am not quite sure how he was able to function the rest of the day after coming face to face with the creepy crawler, but he barely flinched.
One man’s spider is another man’s rattlesnake.
As I limped downstairs tonight for some Gatorade and Phenergan, I still cannot believe how sick I have been. The stomach bug is my Achilles heel. The sheets are still off the boys’ bunk beds. Washing vomit sheets from the bunk beds is high up on my list of why no stomach bug is “JUST” a stomach bug. In theory, the bunk bed is a grand idea. Plenty of floor space and the organized thrill of putting the children to bed in a stacked order – it’s like a filing cabinet for humans until you have to wash the sheets.
I have a friend, they had 4 sets of bunk beds. That’s right eight kids. Their world only made sense at 8 pm. That is when the children were bathed, jammied-up, prayed with, read to, and filed away in their stacked beds. All was well until, the fall of 2009, when “JUST” a stomach bug swept through their home. It was like Passover, but they forgot to put blood over the threshold. The spirit of darkness attacked, vomit dripped from the ceilings, it was like the exorcist times 8. And then my friend got it.
A week later in an attempt to put her life back in order she was “JUST” making the bunk beds, she slipped her 4th and 5th discs. Unable to run with her husband anymore he “JUST” started jogging with his secretary. I doubt I have to explain the rest of this tragedy.
Oh, but it was JUST a stomach bug.
Oh… yeah, it was JUST the devil seeing what it takes to destroy everything you hold dear.
JUST an ant bite sends me into anaphylactic shock.
JUST… one peanut M&M can kill my friend’s daughter.
I recognize the insensitivity of this more and more. The things that JUST seem minimal to me might seem impossible to someone else. And this word is hard, because while it can be a way to downplay something it also can be a word that qualifies something else. I JUST whipped out this blog before the anti-nausea meds kick in and I am rendered unconscious. My doctor’s office is expecting me in the morning, Did mention it is JUST 15 miles from my house… but if I don’t have a car and I am still this sick, JUST 15 miles might be the death of me.
It’s JUST a scorpion.
It’s JUST one more day.
It’s JUST… the best day or worst day of one’s life.
With JUST five more days left in the Write 31 Days Challenge I find myself JUST a little sad, there so much more ground to cover, so many more politically incorrect rants, fallacies about this or that and hundreds more things I JUST wish you’d quit saying cause… you JUST never know.
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
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