We don't often share with others the things that make us amazing.
We don't say, “Hey, I'm amazing. Listen to this.”
I mean, we just don't. It's uncomfortable.
But see that girl in the photo above? In the middle? That girl is sick. She's been sick in one way or another since 2013. She's got an IV port in her arm for 6? 8? weeks of daily Rocephin, to treat what the doctors think is Lyme disease. (They'll turn out to be close.) She's gained a bunch of weight by the time this photo is taken. Her eyes have been frozen wide open — as if terrified or staring — for months, and she had to focus all of her energy and attention for several minutes to arrange her face in the shape of the sort-of smile you see in the photo. Her face hasn't worked right since 2015. Every muscle in her body is tight and/or tremor-y all day long, every day; you can see it in her neck, if you look. She can walk, but her left arm doesn't swing correctly, so it doesn't look or feel right. Her brain is too frozen and traumatized to read, watch tv, listen to music, scroll Facebook. She mostly sits in a chair. She is savagely depressed and blindingly anxious. The UVA neurologists who evaluated her for Parkinson's Disease said no, it's Functional Neurological Disorder. “Shell Shock,” like the World War I soldiers. Try physical therapy. By the time she finds the doctor who orders the tests that show that it's biotoxin illness caused by exposure to actinomycetes bacteria in a water-damaged building, she's spent 28 cumulative days in the inpatient behavioral health unit because the despair and lack of relief became too much to handle outside of a hospital setting.
So, the amazing part?
That human life can hold such profound suffering. That — as I have learned to the core of my being — the impossible happens every day. Once it happens to you, you know without a doubt that this is true. (And it has happened to all of us, hasn't it, these past two years.)
On the other hand, do you see what's awesome about this? The impossible happens every day. All the things you want, all the things you think, “I could never. That's impossible.” — think of one of those things. Entirely possible.
I don't share my story to say, “Look at me.” I share it to say, “Come with me.” Impossible things are entirely possible, you are amazing, and your people are waiting.
I'm better now. Not better better, but better. And I get to help people articulate who and what they are. I get to help them home in on who and what they're for. I help them put up the Bat-Signal to call forth the people who need them.
Amazing. (Let's go, friend.)
