The Friendship Stool
A Tool in Acceptance and Leaning into your Differences
I have fought against anything that made me stand out. No matter how much I might need something different, I’d prefer to blend in, be normal, not be noticed, not take up too much space. Then, I was blessed with a chronic pain condition that forced me to put myself out there. And I hated it. I have been on a journey of acceptance, working on making the most of the situation and recognizing that I can’t do everything the average person can do. I can’t stand for long periods of time. I can’t stand for a concert, no matter how much I want to. Or rather, I can, but with the consequence of being in a good deal of pain that will last for days to come. Vacations have been difficult for me. I want to walk, explore, and get lost in a new city, but I don’t have that luxury. I have to plan things out, to make sure I don’t get stuck somewhere with walking being the only option and finding that my feet are spent. I can’t explore at will; I have to carefully plan what I will see, where to stop and take breaks, and be okay with letting go of plans if I find my pain comes earlier than expected. One of the tools I have begun to use is a collapsible stool. Its compact enough I can carry it in my backpack with me, and if I find myself in a situation where I need to sit but there aren’t options, I can whip it out. I feel like I’m making a scene, drawing people’s attention to me, and it makes me uncomfortable. But I’m learning to accept it and go with it, because this is the only way I can explore and travel. It’s better than staying home.
When I went to Croatia, I knew this trip was another test for me to see if I could listen to my body, and take breaks when I needed it and not push myself to a point where I was miserable with pain. I saw a sign for a beer fest in Zagreb, and I was instantly on board. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand with the crowds, but I wanted to go badly enough that I was okay with the stool. I went with my Airbnb host and his friends, and peeled off as soon as they landed in front of the stage. I knew that to fully enjoy this experience, I would have to find a place to sit, to rest, to respect what my body needed. I made my way to the side of the stage alone and whipped out the stool and sat down to enjoy the music and the beer from a seated position. There was a standing table to my left, with locals gathered around. Their mouths dropped as my collapsible school elongated and magically held my body weight. They came over to ask about my stool, in Croatian of course, and initially I panicked because I didn’t speak Croatian. Ne razumijem, ne razumijem, I kept saying. And because Europeans are way better at learning languages than us Americans, they were able to talk with me in English, apologizing that their English was bad when it was actually perfect. They invited me to join them at their table. I still sat, while they all stood. They would lean down to talk to me, that gesture alone meant so much to me. I felt awkward, sitting, feeling like the odd man out. But I learned to embrace it, being the weird American already made me the odd man out, might as well lean in to it. More and more of their friends began to join and each time another friend came, they’d introduce me and then they’d all cheers to Kylie from Colorado. I loved getting to talk to them and getting to know them and will forever be grateful for the kindness they showed me. They made a moment of uncertainty and vulnerability for me a joyful moment of acceptance and friendship I will never forget.
I still hesitate when I break out the stool, knowing it will draw some attention, but it’s okay, it’s the perfect ice breaker for making new friends and embracing who I am, limitations and all.
