An Inspiration?

I think not.

A couple of posts ago, someone anonymously left a comment saying that they find me an inspiration. I damn near fell off the lounge. And I totally felt like a fraud!

I don't see myself as an inspiration. I don't feel inspired, or that I inspire others. I try and stay upbeat and happy but I'm human at the best of times. The worst - you don't want to know.

Losing Ariana was like all my nightmares combined into one big explosion. It didn't feel real, I felt like I was dreaming, that the decisions we were making weren't even ours to make. I felt numb. It was like when someone gets hurt so very badly that their nerves practically die, and are unable to relay the amount of pain the person should be feeling, so there is nothing. That nothing, is so much worse than the most excruciating pain. Finally feeling something again is almost a relief.

I feel uncomfortable being called an inspiration.  I don't want people looking at part of my story, the part that is here, and thinking that I'm only this. I have a history too. It's not pretty and it's certainly not inspiring. If you want to see someone inspiring, look at my husband. The man who stood by me when he almost certainly should have left. I don't deserve to be considered a role model, and I don't want anyone to think that they should be looking to me for guidance. I'm just as messed up as the next person. I just don't blog about it.