Genuinely what is the point if I am not doing things that are special or interesting or helpful?

Why can’t I separate my identity from my (lack of) accomplishments? Am I supposed to be happy, or even content, to live the small, middling life that my various mental and physical disabilities have assigned me? I’m “good” at some things, but not like I used to be before I was brain damaged. I’m not the smartest, or even one of the smartest, in the room. I used to speak 5 languages, not fluently, but well enough. Now I can barely speak English. I’m not creative, I’m not hard working. I’m not impressive. I’m just another worthless human whose impact on the world will be minute. If not minute, then just not good enough. I just wanted to be special. Even in some small way. But I never will be.