I usually read a couple inspirational quotes every day. I love words and the power of language and the ability they have to speak into my heart often when I need it the most. I could give you a list of leaders, experts and friends whose words impact me on a regular basis. If their quotes were paintings, I would hang them up all over my house. Stories inspire me, art inspires me, and creativity inspires me. Life is full of inspiration.
Then I have those days.
I feel terrible and inadequate. I am not sure what is going on with my life. Things are challenging. I’m trying to fit into a new role. I have excessive awkward moments wherever I go. I get stuck in traffic, and arrive home late for supper. I pump out a meal in 10 minutes for the kids who need to be off to the next event pronto. During dinner those same children are arguing over who is chewing the loudest, and the “oh so important dinnertime that will keep my kids out of jail” turns into a big mess of madness. I wouldn’t mind a solitary cell of my own. The washing machine breaks down and the dishes are piled up and the room housing the cat litter makes me want to gag. I manage to scrape boring and highly processed lunches together for the next day, feeling like a failure because I don’t have enough energy to press through and make a salad for my husband. I try to eat clean and healthy but really I’m in the pantry when no one is looking, sucking back a bag of chocolate chips. Then, to close the day off I see my distorted reflection in the kitchen tap and it confirms to me that I am indeed a monstrous human. There is no hope for me.
I want to throw a brick at being inspired.
I feel like such a hypocrite. I want to live an inspiring life, but sometimes I can’t keep up with the hype. I want to be inspiring to others, but I can’t handle the pressure.
Do the inspiring ever crash?
Do they every fail?
I instagram the good moments of my life, but I hide away the rest. I do that on purpose. Don’t be fooled people. No one wants to see the inside of my fridge. The state of my closet. How I look when I drag myself out of bed in the morning. Less than perfect family moments.
Less than perfect me.
But inspiring doesn’t give up on me.
As I almost hit rock bottom and wear sweat pants to work, a word will catch my attention. A phrase will stand out to my eyes. I’ll see something that brings a glimmer of hope to my heart. Something that encourages me to press on. Not to give up. I realize that I need inspiration like I need water. It’s the wellspring of my heart. If it dries up, then I will wither away.
I have a confusing relationship with inspiration. I want it. I need it. I want to be it. It mocks me. I want to hurt it. I despise it. I love it.
But without inspiration, my life would be rainy day grey.
No stars to reach for.
No dreams to dream.
Nothing to make me want to be better.
I think I’ll keep looking to you.
Keep pushing me along at my best and my worst.
Help me to believe in myself.
Prove that you are not just a trendy word attached to empty sayings.
But capable of producing authenticity and helping make me better.
It’s ok if every moment is not inspiring.
And it’s ok to celebrate the ones that are.