People love this one.

The voice gets soft. Their head tilts, eyes glaze up like they’re watching a Pixar montage.

“You’re just… so inspiring. I don’t know how you do it. I could never go through what you’ve been through.”

I nod. Smile politely. Maybe even thank them.
But inside?

I want to scream.

Because here’s the thing no one wants to admit:
I didn’t “do” anything. I just didn’t die.

I didn’t sign up to be your TED Talk.
I didn’t choose to be an amputee icon or a walking “you got this” Pinterest quote.

I signed up to survive. Barely.

There’s this weird cultural fantasy that after you lose a limb, you either:

• Become a motivational speaker, smiling through the pain

• Or fade into the background as someone tragic and quietly noble

But what if neither?
What if I’m just a tired bastard in a hoodie trying to remember where I left my meds?

No cape. No soundtrack. No breakthrough moment.

What I do have is:

• A pile of insurance appeals that could wallpaper my house

• A leg that looks like it was built in Microsoft Paint

• And the uncanny ability to microwave cheap food while silently sobbing, like some kind of Olympic sport

This isn’t a comeback story. It’s a Tuesday.

The Truth?

Most of us didn’t think we could “go through it” either.

But then life sucker-punched us in the gut and didn’t ask for our opinion.
And so… we just did. We go through it not because we’re brave.
But because there was no option labeled “pause until you're ready.”

Life doesn’t hand out breaks. It just keeps going.
And you? You either limp along or get dragged. That’s it.

So the next time you see someone missing a limb, or walking through the fire with a smile they probably stitched on with dental floss…

Don’t call them inspiring.
Don’t say you “could never.”

Assume this instead:

• They broke.

• They rebuilt.

• And they’re still figuring it out — just like you are, just like we all are.

Final Thought

“It’s not inspiring. It’s necessary.
I didn’t choose strength. I chose not to die.”

I’m not a hero.
I’m not a symbol.

I’m just here. And some days, honestly?
That’s the bravest damn thing I do.