On not being an inspiration

Yesterday, someone kept telling me I was “superhuman” because I’ve dealt with challenges. I’m a mother who loves her daughter and made some sacrifices. That doesn’t make me superhuman. That make me a parent.

In the past, I’ve been called “inhuman” because I had to make brutal, agonizing decisions about my daughter. That doesn’t make me inhuman. That makes me a parent who had to make brutal, agonizing decisions about her daughter.

What is so cruel about comments like this is how othering they are, as if I’m an entirely alien species that a mere human could never hope to understand.

I don’t want your applause or your awe or your certainty that you could never have done what I have done. I’m not special or magical. I’m a normal human who did the best she could under the circumstances. If you would not have, that says something about you, not me.

It is true that I do not and have not had a typical experience of mothering but I have done my best to understand those who have. I have put myself in your shoes.

It would be nice if you would do me the same basic courtesy.

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