“A comment as a blog post. Pick someone else’s post (from the past or from today) and write a comment to them. Write that comment as your blog post for today. Link back to them to let them know you were inspired.”
Why? Because the person who is my inspiration does not have a blog.
I don’t know much about her, frankly. I know she’s an American woman…a Congresswoman…and I know that I love her to bits.
I start to tear at her name alone. Her name gets its own line. Bold AND italicized.
Shot in the mother-freakin’ HEAD. Not only lived, but is making recoveries in leaps and bounds. Ironic, given that her husband, who is number 2 on my List of 2 Heroes, is an astronaut.
HEAD, I said.
Her recovery. His love. It’s a goddamn modern day holy-crap-on-a-cracker.
So. Sometimes, seeing the images of her initial state…the difficulties…having to relearn just about everything…the singing, the crying…the joys of small deeds, the frustration of loss…does she wish she’d died? Or is she more thankful to be alive? Both? Does it depend on the day? The week?
She is my inspiration.
When on day like today…in so much mo-fo pain I could vomit…as I’m still managing the chaos of my reality, staining the friggin’ mantle (ya, I know), hot-gluing lamp cords to the wall so that my OCD doesn’t have a shit-fit that they’re hanging all loose and…uh…loose-y…climbing the stairs on my hands and knees…again…
…I wonder. I wonder if I can do that, too…Be an Uber-Badass. A Badass Elite. The Dijon of ‘Badassery’. Overcome what will otherwise kill me. Huh. Well, if she can do it…Shot. In. The. Head…I can most assuredly haul this I’ve-earned-this-ass up a goddamn flight or two of stairs, no?
Because you know what? Sometimes I feel like I wish I didn’t have to go on. Sometimes I feel like the pain of watching the world dance it’s beautiful choreographed normalcy while I sit on the floor sucks more than the physical pain that’s keeping me there.
And yet? Here I am. Resting after a week of pulling myself through hell and back…a diagnosis that puts my arthritis in my spine…feeling like the hounds themselves added a dab’o’tabasco to my every one of my freakin’ limbs…
Ah, but I might not have the physical capabilities right at this moment…that doesn’t mean I can’t relearn other awesome parts about me that maybe got shoved under the rug in my wrangling of the chaos of my made-for-tv-movie kind of life.
If Gabby blushes when her husband tells her he thinks she’s strong…brave…putting it back on him…?!?
She’s the most awesome badass I could ever hope to emulate…
This post was written as part of NHBPM – 30 health posts in 30 days: http://info.wegohealth.com/NHBPM