It is similar to the statement that clothing, cars and bank accounts don't matter in the long run but having been important in the life of a child is what counts. I don't crave importance or recognition from what I say in the blog but I do wonder and worry about whether is makes a difference to anyone reading it. For equally vain reasons, I want what I say to resonate. Or inspire. Or create questions. I want for someone, somewhere to be a bit better after reading something I wrote. And that is because I believe much of my turmoil could have been eased by an "Aha" moment or two.
By the same token, what do I really have to share? Funny stories of being incarcerated? Yep, got those in abundance. And really, they ARE funny and no, I am not being self depreciating, just finding the humor in an otherwise dreary 13 months. I have empathy for those who have been physically abused and "war" stories I can share if it helps anyone not feel alone. I have PLENTY of stories about surviving mental illness - some funny, some sad, all with a lesson, all willing to be shared even if it just helps one person, one time. And broken heart stories? If I had a nickel for every time my poor little heart was stitched back together I would be a rich woman. A. REALLY. RICH. WOMAN. I am not sure those make me unique though? Maybe the combination of them: felonious birth mother afflicted with major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder at your service - oh, and, obese, she is really quite fat! does make me special in some way?
I'd much rather be special for different reasons. I want to be special because I created positive change; because I am a survivor and a good friend. I want to be special for the reasons we each do: because we ARE special. And this is something which I need to remember, that while I am one of many, I am a very special one. And it is okay to be uninspiring sometimes and to be just who I am.
Sometimes all I can say is SHOOP! <3
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