It’s not that I don’t like compliments about surviving so many hard life experiences; they really mean a lot to me.

I just wish I could have more of a normal life that didn’t have to be so worthy of standing out.

I wish I was married with a family. I wish I could get pregnant. I wish I could adopt foster kids.

I wish I had a house with a yard, even if I couldn’t have a farm. I wish I could paint my walls when I want or get chickens when I want or put a shed in when I want.

I wish I had money so that even if I never have a husband or kids, I could adopt and afford more fur babies. They fill my void as well as they can. I love them more than anything except people.

I wish I had more energy to take care of more pets, or if not, I wish I had money to hire someone with energy.

I wish I could work a full time job and that I didn’t have to be on Disability. I wish jobs would hire me for just a few hours, but they don’t, even when they claim to be an accessible work place.

I wish that my relationship with God would be easier, but depression makes everything so. much. work. Including getting out of bed.

I wish that seeing people in the situations I can only dream about being in didn’t hurt me like a knife in my heart. I truly want to be happy for them, and I am– I’m just lonely for me.

So I keep going. I keep fighting for light. I keep telling people in hard situations that life will get better and I’m here for you and I know what it’s like. I keep advocating for disability appreciation. I keep trying to start an animal rescue non profit and finish my music teacher certification and music therapy internship eventually. I may fail and I have failed. But I would rather get up than get trampled down more by life.

The cost of inspiration.