“Punctuality is the virtue of the bored.” ~ Evelyn Waugh
I am always late. Always. For everything.
No… wait… that’s a lie. I manage to be on time to catch flights. But that’s only because airport arrivals are designed just right for me. They ask me to be there three hours early. Then when I’m late by that measure but still in plenty of time to go through everything I need to go through they still let me catch the plane anyway.
Other than catching planes I’m never on time. For anything. Ever.
And I’m so over people bitching at me for it.
I’m not inconsiderate. And I’m not flaky.
What I am is disabled.
I have, at last count, eighteen different chronic medical conditions. Some of these are mental, some are physical.
Their symptoms include:
Even worse fatigue
And by the way by fatigue I don’t just mean I’m very tired, I mean that I often don’t have any energy. I mean that I’m so exhausted I can feel it in every single molecule of my body. I mean that even my bone marrow is telling me it needs to rest. I mean that some days I can’t find the strength to lift my head off the pillow.
The best I can do on those days is lie in bed scrolling semi consciously through Twitter on my phone.
On the days I can make it out of bed, and out of the house, my energy reserves are very limited.
And once they’re gone that’s it.
Having a bit of a rest or a sit down won’t fix it. I just have to wait until some other day when I’m feeling a bit recharged again.
Read; brain fogs, word blindness, lack of ability to concentrate, and short and medium term memory problems.
Emotional pain and physical pain.
Pain in my head, pain in my joints, pain in bones, pain in my uterus, pain in my eyes, pain in my skin, pain in my lungs, pain in my oesophagus.
And if I happen on a day when I manage to overcome all those things to get up, shower, dress appropriately, leave the house, and show up in a place where there are other people around, and I’m only twenty minutes late, then fuck off am I going to feel guilty about it.
I deserve a damned medal.
The idea that I, or any other person who struggles, should have to place even more pressure on ourselves to prove that we care sufficiently about your time is damaging.
If I didn’t care about your time I wouldn’t be spending a chunk of my very precious energy to come and see you.
My being late it’s not about you. It’s about the fact that poor time keeping is only time keeping of which I’m currently capable.
So you need to make some concessions and learn to get used to it.
Stop thinking of punctuality as a virtue, or anything else that might have to do with manners.
Life is hard.
And ton of people you know and meet for things have health conditions and other stuff going on that you don’t even know about.
Please cut everyone some slack and chill out on the ableist clock watching.