“If you cannot find your miracle, be someone’s miracle.”
I listened to a motivational speaker this morning as I worked out who was born with no arms or legs and yet at the age of twenty nine is married with a child on the way, is a published author, and saving lives all around the world. He could not be happier despite the fact that he was told his whole life he would never be able to find a woman, have children, or anything of value for that matter. He was bullied by his classmates and told that he would never be able to pick up a child or hug another human being. He attempted suicide three different times during his teen years. What saved him was his parents and the true love and confidence they instilled in him. They explained from the day he was able to talk the true value of living: love and passion, not what many of us believe to be important which seems to be money, status, looks, etc. At the end of the lecture, he so enthusiastically presented he said has seen miracles happen. He has seen people who are blind find a way to see and people who are deaf find a way to hear. He still slightly holds onto the belief that he will one day walk but it does not make a huge difference to him one way or the other. He is happy and although he may not find his miracle, he is a miracle to others. He met a mother and father who had just given birth to a child with no arms or legs and told his story to them and truly became their miracle. They now know their child can find happiness, which is the true measure of success despite their child’s lack of arms and legs.
I held onto the belief that I would one day find a miracle to chronic pain. I too attempted suicide, some say it was a cry for help and deep down I believe it was because to think of my dad standing at my grave before my time was too much to bear but I did think about ending my life on a consistent basis due to chronic pain. I searched for my miracle: my cure to chronic pain. I was bullied by my peers because I looked different when my pain was visible. My accident left me with half a shaved head, a disformed face, and broken bones. I ate my lunch every day in the middle school bathroom just so I did not have to face anyone who could see me or make fun of me. Once my pain became invisible is when I began my search for my miracle, my cure. I searched the whole country, literally. I drove from New Jersey to Philadelphia to New York to Connecticut to Colorado to Minnesota. I spent ten years with one thought in my mind and that was this: “If I do not find my miracle, I will end my life. I will never be able to be a mother, wife, or author with chronic pain. I cannot even read a damn book because the pain is so bad. I will disappoint the people I love most if I do not find my miracle.” My search for this miracle almost killed me. This quest came closer to killing me then even brain surgery. I never did find my miracle but here I am: a college graduate with my degree in social work, a writer, and most importantly a mother. I have been a miracle to many people who have found my blog and I am not writing this to brag or boast, however I do appreciate when you write me and tell me I saved you or helped you because I know that although I never found nor will find my miracle, I was given this gift of chronic pain to be your miracle.