My youngest and I have been going roller skating lately. I loved roller skating when I was a kid. I had my own pair of white roller skates with pink wheels, and I think my eighth or ninth birthday party was at a roller rink. I am incredibly unathletic, but I remember zooming around the roller rink and wondering why this was so hard for so many people. It was easy for me!

Well, after a thirty-year hiatus I’m back at the rink. I lost all my previous skill but I’m competent out there. As I explained to my kid, I don’t think I’m brave enough to ever be really good at this, but I do enjoy it.

I fell when we went on Friday night and somehow my right roller skate slammed into my left shin. It hurt so bad I thought I was going to pass out; those roller skates are heavy! I was fine after sitting on the sidelines for a few minutes, but my leg hurt terribly as I continued skating. This, I thought, will be a massive, ugly bruise tomorrow morning.

The next morning, I examined my shin. There is a bruise but it’s pretty pathetic. My kids get better bruises every day when they launch themselves off the furniture. It hurts like hell if I touch it, but is otherwise unremarkable.

I was disappointed. I had even shaved my legs so as to more readily display my heartbreaking injury. I was going to show people this bruise and they were going to gasp and tell me that I was so brave to endure such an injury. That they were so impressed that I got back up and kept skating after that. That I was amazing for doing something so hard.

This is not going to happen.

But.

In some ways, is this what we all want? Even those of us (like me) who have lived a very charmed, easy life. We want someone to acknowledge our struggles, be impressed with us for continuing to be a human even though some days just getting out of bed is Too Much.

“You’re amazing,” I want someone to say to me as I make dinner again. “You’re so brave,” I want them to exclaim as I reschedule vaccinations for the sixth time. “You’re so impressive,” I want to hear as I manage emotions around Monday night homework.

I might start doing this with my family. I’ll tell my husband he’s so amazing to get that filing done before close of business on Friday. I’ll tell my youngest that he’s so impressive for putting on socks yet again. I’ll tell my oldest he’s so brave for finishing that sheet of spelling words.

It sounds stupid when I type it out like that; I am not going to do this. But I don’t think we should have to have a visible injury in order to think of ourselves as brave.