Every once in a while I have someone tell me that they have read some of the content on my facebook, or they heard about me from one of my family members, or after they have been talking to me for a while, that they find me so inspiring. Every time someone tells me this, I bust up laughing.
Inspiring what, exactly? Most days I struggle to do much more than sleep. What am I inspiring them to do? Bring nap time into the workplace? Sleep at unconventional hours? Give their dogs weird nicknames? Have really bad fangirl moments? Sit in a corner and cry in terror for no reason at all? How on earth could anyone look at me and think, "inspiration?" What exactly am I causing to happen here? Is there going to be a cluster of people that decided to discover a way to create the scientific means tocontrol things telepathically in their sleep, take over the world, and call me an inspiration? Ok, maybe that's a little far fetched, but what exactly is going on here? How am I an inspiration?
When I think of someone who is inspiring, I think of people who have accomplished great things through and in spite of some form of adversity- people who push through and don't let anything hold them back. When someone says, "Oprah," the image that pops into my head is of her standing on a stage with a huge grin on her face, telling someone she's giving them a car, not of the girl whose infant son died when she was 14. The name "Albert Einstein" brings to mind a man with crazy white hair standing in front of a chalk board, upon which is written, "E=MC²," not of the 16-year-old boy who failed his entrance exams. "Rosa Parks" conjures up an image of a woman sitting in bold
No, I really don't understand how anyone can label me an inspiration. I haven't accomplished some world changing feat. I'm not operating in the public eye under constant scrutiny. I live with my grandparents. I don't have a "real" job. I had to drop out of college, even though I had good grades, because my bad health made it next to impossible for me to attend classes. I've spent the last year struggling to do much more than get out of bed every morning. I forget to eat. Most of my days are spent in my pajamas, or if I really feel like putting myself together, jeans and a t-shirt. I've gone from having my makeup application down to an exact science that can be completed in 15 minutes or less to, "How do I put this on again? Oh well. I'll just do without." I force myself to continue putting one foot in front of the other every day simply because I get so bored!
I have spent the last year out of school and out of work and out of my mind in complete and total boredom. When the used bookstore put a Spanish grammar review textbook/workbook on their shelves, they thought they would never be able to get rid of it. I'm the nerd that bought that book. That's how much I miss school and love learning. I'm forced to laugh at all the bizarre things that happen to me as a result of my illness as a way to keep from crying. I spent the last year sitting around feeling sorry for myself and wishing things would change. In my mind, I knew nothing would change until I got up and did something about it, but it took a bit longer to know that in my heart.
Sure, I have days that I crumble under the weight of exhaustion. Yes, I have moments that I weep out of a desire for things to be different. But I always force myself to get back up and keep moving forward, eventually. Sometimes whatever I'm trying to do has to wait until tomorrow or the next day, but eventually I get it done. Maybe avoiding boredom is a bad motivator, but as long as it convinces me to get up off my bum and do something, that's not so bad, right?
So maybe all I'm doing is inspiring people to get off their bums and do SOMETHING- anything. And if I can be that extra little bit of motivation to convince them to air out the sofa, maybe that's not such a bad thing, even if they are trying to control things with their minds.