The universe, in the form of other people, might be trying to tell me something.
In the past month, I have had someone tell me that I am beautiful, fascinating and complex.* (They also said something completely flattering about my writing, which is so amazing I am not going to repeat it here.) I have had other people tell me how valued my service is.
Today, a person in a group that I participate in told me that she was impressed and moved by my participation. She told me that I had influenced her in positive ways, and she was grateful for my presence in the group. She said she got annoyed when other people talked over me because she felt that I always had something wise and worthwhile to say.
I don't know what to do with this information. I have spent so much of my life feeling... inadequate. I fail to recognize that sometimes just being who you are and contributing makes a difference in other people's lives.
I have a husband who is one of literally a handful of people in the world who do what he does. I have friends who have done mind-boggling things. And I have often wondered about the extent to which I have squandered the opportunities -- educational and otherwise -- which I have been given. It is hard for me to feel as though my contribution to the world has been anything but insignificant.
And yet... the Rocket Scientist says I am often his muse. I am the one who keeps the home-fires burning. I help people. I share what I know. One at least one occasion, I have been told by someone that something I had written had changed their life and made it possible for them to heal from old wounds.
My goal these days needs to be to remember this. To keep in mind that my life, while so mundane, has helped others live better lives.
I am disallowing comments to this post because, while I am writing it here to keep it where I can see it, I am in no way trolling for comments about how "wonderful" I am.
*Note to self: you should really decide whether or not to use Oxford commas. Switching back and forth is ridiculous.
