Illness isn’t inspiring.
I’ve often heard lines like “He’s so inspiring, I could never do what he does,” when someone expresses their admiration for a person suffering from a serious illness. It’s a nice sentiment. But I don’t think many people realise what they could do, if faced with an illness and having no choice but to deal with it. Some people become extraordinary in the face of their adversity, but none of us really know what we’re capable of until we have to. Your resilience can’t be tested in theory, only in reality.
But for me, when it happens, there is nothing inspiring about being ill.
The day-to-day of being ill, is very far removed from ‘inspirational’. It’s characterised by all the things you can’t do, the possibilities you can’t realise in that moment.
It’s about the books and articles I can’t quite grasp the meaning of, because my head feels fuzzy.
The blogs I don’t write because I lack the energy or I feel down.
The projects I put off because I stop believing in myself and feel like I don’t have the ability to pull them off.
The exercise I don’t start because I just don’t want to be reminded of the heavy concrete feeling settling in my chest.
The friends I don’t talk to because I don’t have news to share and I don’t want to keep repeating myself.
Good health on the other hand, is like an adrenaline shot. It’s a burst of clarity and creative excitement, of possibility. A chance to start afresh.
And for the first time in a while, I’m feeling pretty damn good.
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