What does it mean to “be an inspiration”? A few people have said that to me recently: I am an inspiration. At first I laugh. I guess I’m an inspiration because I’m still alive. Maybe that’s enough.
What’s inspirational about me? Trust me, I’m not searching for platitudes here. I’m trying to get at “what makes someone an inspiration” and why do people think I and so many other breast cancer survivors qualify? There’s definitely more than one day’s blog in this question.
Is it being a mother and worrying about your children more than yourself? No. That’s what every mother does.
Is it summoning strength to confront chemo when it’s your greatest fear?
Is it putting a smile on your face when you are crumbling inside?
Is it speaking the words, “I have cancer” to your children, your friends, your husband, your parents, your in-laws, your brother, and all of the people in your life enough times that eventually it starts to sound normal?
Is “inspirational” when you offer to show your post-mastectomy body to women so that they will know the results just aren’t as scary as they are thinking they will be?
Is it answering everything and anything people want to know?
Is it putting words and feelings in black on white?
The essence of inspiration is being strong.
When you least want to be.
When you are faking it.
Strength.
When you lack it.
When you have to dig deep for it.
When your kids need dinner and you want to vomit from the chemo.
When you are too weak to climb the stairs.
And you don’t think you can get through another day.
Or hour.
Or minute.
Or second.
And you just want the pain to end.
Somehow.
Some way.
Any way.
Just have it go away.
When your pride is gone.
Dignity is gone.
All of it.
Being inspirational means being tough.
It means feeling rotten but not wanting others to.
It means wanting to put others at ease with how you are doing.
It means being a lightning rod for everything bad.
A catalyst for everything good.
A spark.
A resource.
A friend.
A wife.
A lover.
A mother.
A daughter.
It means telling your parents you feel okay when you don’t.
A little fib so they will go home and get some rest for the week.
Take some time off for themselves before they come back in 8 days and do it all over again.
A break so they don’t have to see their little girl suffer anymore
Because 6 days in a row is enough.
For anyone.
Because looking good makes others feel better about how you are doing.
So you put makeup on.
And dress well.
And put a big smile on your face.
So they will think you are feeling good.
And when you switch the topic of conversation, they will go along with it–
They will believe you when you say you are feeling better.
Okay, so maybe I am inspirational. I don’t call it inspirational. I can only admit to the smaller things. The micro things. Inspirational sounds big. Important. It’s hard to accept that one.
But I think I’m convinced.
The reason I’m going to finally concede is that I just realized something:
That was my goal.
Except I wasn’t calling it that.
I was just calling it doing it right.
I was calling it setting an example.
I was trying to show my family, especially my daughter, how you can tackle an obstacle– a big one.
I was just doing my job.
June 15, 2009
Link to Twitter
You’ve got the tears and questions flowing with this one. It’s funny how often we say or think these kinds of things sincerely, but maybe can’t put our finger on precisely why we feel that way toward somebody. You’re carrying on with life and laughing and loving despite going through what so many of us fear. Maybe that’s a big part of why so many respond to you in this way. There is such a shared fear of cancer, and I would bet most of us have some connection to someone who’s gone through it, which intensifies the fear.
I just love, respect, admire, am inspired by you because of all the evidence I’ve seen of your loving heart.
Wow — this is amazing. I’m going to be quoting this for a long time. You are an inspiration, not because you survived cancer (to me anyway), but because you reach out to me and show me how to survive life — each day as it comes.
Big love to you my friend.
I started to comment this morning and then, well, life got in my way. You ARE an inspiration! When you were sick I didn’t see you that often, but whenever I did you had a smile on your face, makeup on, and were impeccably dressed. Reading this I now know it was more of a “fake it until you make it” attitude, but it worked! Your love of what you do and your knowledge of all medical (and computer things) is amazing and inspiring.
I love to read your posts. Your insights are inspirational to me and help me to keep going. Thank you so much!
Dagmar
Lisa, Usually I hate all the labels almost automatically attached to those of us with cancer, but this post makes me stop and think a bit deeper. Like you say, we are just doing our job, and to some I guess that looks, maybe even is, inspirational. Great post.
Wow, this was difficult yet very important to read. I was gripped by “the seconds”…waiting for it to be over, the pain. That’s how bad it was. I have not been able to share that. You have shared it. It is the truth. Seven months in, and I’m just now trying to cope with the chemo, the Neulasta treatment. This post relieved something inside I’ve been trying to hide, trying to tuck away and forget, but I can’t.
All I can say, is that you are an inspiration to me because you DID do things the right way. You DID set an example. You DID your homework, all of it, and excelled. The gift you give to others like myself is the gift of life, the gift of hope and all of the other gifts that go along with knowing you. Admiration and inspiration, two words I immediately connect you with, the third is hope. Something we all need to get through this. Thank you!