Extra Ordinary or Extraordinary?

Extraordinary or extra ordinary?

Hero is such a big word that it makes me uncomfortable. It’s a word that’s reserved for the extraordinary.

The word extraordinary is an oxymoron in itself. How can you put extra in front of ordinary and decide it means remarkable, instead of what it actually says...extra ordinary? More ordinary. An additional amount of ordinary.

When I view myself, I see myself as the broken apart words: extra ordinary. I’m regular as hell. I live in a typical, middle class, split level home. It’s usually messy and undone, never polished or finished. I drive a 2015 Kia minivan. I wear leggings most days. I don’t drink coffee, but other than that, on paper, I’m the poster girl for “basic”.

I feel like my extra ordinary exterior is what makes me relatable. I’m not rich, super fit, fashionable or have a Instagram worthy home. I’m approachable. I don’t look “heroic” in any way.

My heart though, the parts that you can’t see with your eyes and through your screen...it’s heroic as fuck. It’s big, it’s bold, it’s on fire. It feels like extra ordinary can also be extraordinary. They can coexist, maybe even compliment each other.

Scott calls me his hero all the time. He says it’s because I go up against everything, regardless of the task, and I get it done, now. I find a work around for almost anything thrown at me.

I’m still a work in progress, always will be, and that’s kind of beautiful. I get to keep working on using my extra ordinary-ness to be extraordinary...forever.

My friend Ryan taught me that I can “believe whatever the fuck I want” and I believe heroes can be extra ordinary, not just extraordinary.

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