WTF Target

Shopping is NOT cheaper than therapy – but it’s pretty effective. Target was my place of healing for many years. I swear I could feel the endorphins and dopamine pump into my bloodstream as I filled my cart.

Today, Target is a grueling excursion, because my bloodstream is loaded with debilitating amounts of mast cell mediators. For many months, I was insecure about my disability parking certificate. Then I realized I was giving myself pep talks in the parking lot just to get from the car to the store. I put off my errands as long as possible, but everyone runs out of toilet paper and prednisone eventually.

Recently, I was hobbling through Target, when a canvas grabbed my attention. The bold, white text stated, “It doesn’t get better than this.”


I read it again wondering if there was a typo or if the Benadryl was interfering with my ability to read. Nope.

I tried to think of who this half-glass empty mantra is intended for. Maybe new parents drunk on baby love hormones? Maybe the baby? I suppose not much is better than around-the-clock room service and some to wipe your butt. A baby’s only expectation is to live. But what happens when the kid grows? And learns to read? Sorry, Timmy, you’ve peaked.

Naturally, I posted this picture on my Facebook. Kudos to Ryan for demanding I go back to the store and place Eeyore next to it. I contemplated going back and buying it at the pharmacy, along with my nine prescriptions. Then I would strap it to the back of my service dog, so that when I go to hospital for reactions, I will have something to hang on the wall.

The truth is it usually gets better than this. And if it doesn’t, I don’t want to know. I try to make the best of each moment with the help of Big Pharma.

What mantra gets you through the day?

P.S. In case you missed it, for actual inspiration, check out my latest post on The Mighty, “Three truths to remember when defending your health”.

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