There's an inspiration hierarchy.
CareCure has been around so long that some thread topics have become almost cliche in their reappearance. Of course, the vast majority of people we meet have no clue about what life with a SCI is really like. And I have no idea what's like to grow up in a famine-ravaged African nation. I also have no idea what's like to live in a country that's being torn asunder by civil war with bombs dropping around me. I haven't had cancer (yet) and have been spared abject poverty. The list of shitty things that I can't relate to is seemingly endless and I don't berate myself for not having a more intimate awareness or appreciation of it all.
We are all to some extent narcissistic creatures. Very few people feel my pain as I experience it, and I'm pretty confident that I'm oblivious to the pain of others. This is not because I'm unsympathetic or lacking for empathy, but because like most people I'm limited by the amount of suffering I can take in before it compromises my ability to function. We're always trying to balance being aware and sensitive to the plight of others while trying not to spiral in despair for how little we can control things outside of our environment and understanding. Seems pretty healthy to me.
So if someone calls me an inspiration or gives me God's blessings (and I'm an atheist), I don't quibble. It's beats being ignored and or made to be invisible.
We're all somewhere on the ladder of either being someone's object of inspiration or busy searching for someone to inspire us. Disabled and able-bodied alike, life is a constant struggle. We look to others for guidance, support and reassurance. If someone locates that in me, it's a gift they offer to themselves and I don't begrudge them for it. Intentional or otherwise, it provides a moment (usually very fleeting) of uplift.
CareCure has been around so long that some thread topics have become almost cliche in their reappearance. Of course, the vast majority of people we meet have no clue about what life with a SCI is really like. And I have no idea what's like to grow up in a famine-ravaged African nation. I also have no idea what's like to live in a country that's being torn asunder by civil war with bombs dropping around me. I haven't had cancer (yet) and have been spared abject poverty. The list of shitty things that I can't relate to is seemingly endless and I don't berate myself for not having a more intimate awareness or appreciation of it all.
We are all to some extent narcissistic creatures. Very few people feel my pain as I experience it, and I'm pretty confident that I'm oblivious to the pain of others. This is not because I'm unsympathetic or lacking for empathy, but because like most people I'm limited by the amount of suffering I can take in before it compromises my ability to function. We're always trying to balance being aware and sensitive to the plight of others while trying not to spiral in despair for how little we can control things outside of our environment and understanding. Seems pretty healthy to me.
So if someone calls me an inspiration or gives me God's blessings (and I'm an atheist), I don't quibble. It's beats being ignored and or made to be invisible.
We're all somewhere on the ladder of either being someone's object of inspiration or busy searching for someone to inspire us. Disabled and able-bodied alike, life is a constant struggle. We look to others for guidance, support and reassurance. If someone locates that in me, it's a gift they offer to themselves and I don't begrudge them for it. Intentional or otherwise, it provides a moment (usually very fleeting) of uplift.

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