Here’s the thing, some people will never get it! Yes, I’m talking about fat acceptance and size diversity, but I’m also talking about me (or you) as a person. No matter how many times you explain and spell things out, some people will just never see the other side. I see this in my own relationships, painfully, more so now than ever. I see that as I find that I know myself and my needs and wants in my life that there are people who will only ever choose to see or accept their own specific version of me. It doesn’t matter how much I shine or grow or change, to them I fit nicely and neatly into some little box they’ve labeled “Sarah” and they’re not terribly interested in allowing upgrades or revisions. So be it.

I have been amazed at how simple and powerful the phrase, “that is unacceptable” can be. When I told someone last year that how they were treating me was unacceptable and that I wouldn’t tolerate it in my life, they didn’t apologize or ask questions or even attempt to make things better or right. Instead they kept insisting the blame was mine and I needed to somehow get over myself…or something. I refuse to lower myself or my standards when it comes to friendships for people who refuse to treat me with respect, honesty and realness. And realness only gets you so far when you are lying to your damned self! 😉

I am unapologetically me! I am lumpy, I have rolls, I am sexy, I am sassy, I am smart and sometimes quite hilarious! I want and choose to enjoy my life. As best as I can, anyhow. I have been dealt some heavy blows lately, but I keep getting back up. Sometimes I don’t even know why, but I do it. I do it because I remember the abuse and not wanting to live anymore. I do it for those who are there in the thick of it now. I love you! You’re worth so much more and you’ll get it, too, if you can find your own light inside…it’s there!  *HUGS* I do it because all I have ever fucking known is to fight and to struggle. It’s exhausting but I wouldn’t know easy if it slapped me in the face.

Living my life out in the open has been liberating and surprising and scary as hell. I don’t fear the same things I used to. Perhaps that’s maturity, but what I crave and ache for has changed, too. I appreciate such simple pleasures at times it makes me laugh, out loud, alone in my room. Ha-ha! My wants are so few and my demands fewer. I want love. I want freedom. I want a choice. I want to survive. I want the truth, always. I want to express myself in any way I see fit. I want color and nature.

Right now I want to pour myself into a bottle of wine and sleep…for life! Monday (when I wrote this) hit me like a ton of bricks and I don’t know that there are tears left in me to give. It’s not that I didn’t know the bad stuff was coming, I did, I was just already feeling so scared and vulnerable. To have the harshness of that extra bit of reality spotlighted was just too much on such a dreary day. When I turned to a friend who has been there for me before and was met with utter assholery, well? That was the kicker. I can’t take getting shit on anymore, ya know?

When I was driving back to work from lunch I drove past a part of town that I hadn’t given much thought to before and it triggered a very bad and very repressed memory in me that nearly had me incapacitated. THAT BAD! I haven’t had a PTSD symptom in over a year, some more than that. This memory was one of the worst of the worst and I thought I couldn’t breathe. The one thing that got me through it though was thinking of that “Special Geek” I’ve mentioned here before. He’s such a shining beacon in the night for me. He’s so kind and wonderful to me and I am so glad my brain chose to focus on him rather than the horrors of the past in that moment. I am so grateful and so blessed and so fortunate, I know this. I have incredible friends both IRL and online and I wouldn’t be able to get up everyday without ’em. And it is why I love with my whole self and end up hurt, too. So be it.

I can only be and honor me and my truth and my experience. I can try to show you, I can try to explain, but until they get rid of all those boxes labeled “Sarah” you/they will never see the real me and I will never, truly, be understood and I think that’s okay.