Yep, a couple of years ago a fabulous friend of mine, after reading this blog, dubbed me “The Queen of TMI” and I have (secretly) worn that shit proudly!

When someone I just met remarked at how openly I talk about, well, anything, I shared this title with them and then explained, “I hate that anything is “Taboo” just because someone, society/religion/parents/conservatives/etc, deem it so! We all share this human experience and it’s such bullshit that we’re “not supposed” to talk about it. It’s why we all feel like freaks about stuff until we learn that someone else has experienced it, too! So fuck all of that! I’m talking about it all, the gross stuff, the sex stuff, the hard stuff…all of it! Bring it on! Ha-ha!’

I know I haven’t done many TMI posts here lately, mostly because I am not sure what to write about (please suggest things!!!), but I do enjoy them. I do think it’s important to talk about this stuff and get it out there and to share our stories and experiences with one another.

If you’d like to suggest a topic for me to write about, TMI or not, please email me directly: notblueatall@notblueatall.com and I will do my best.

No one benefits when we talk shit about other people. We are all guilty of it in some way or another. It is a form of judgment. We have got to let this shit go!  If someone wrongs you, it is not a reflection of you. Someone else’s behavior is entirely on them. If someone is doing something with their life that you disagree with? Well, it’s their life. If you’re friends you should be able to calmly let them know how you feel, but do make sure you know the how and why of what you’re feeling before you do.

We need to support one another. We all share this beautiful and terrifying human experience and we can choose to connect and support one another. It is a choice. You can choose to shit on everyone you come in contact with and do your best to make people miserable, but why? Why put energy into something that won’t help, heal, grow or teach you? I just don’t get that mentality at all.

When we tear others down we close our hearts to love and possibilities. We allow our judgments of others to cloud our minds and we turn that same awful lens on ourselves. You know it’s not right. I don’t care what is socially acceptable in your life, you know deep down it’s not right.

I want to be a better person than those who have wronged me, who have lied to me, who have hurt me or taken from me. I want to honor and become my most authentic and truest self. I can’t do that by letting other people’s baggage weigh me down. I have enough to work through on my own and I am doing well with that.

I recently sat idle while listening to some people talk some heavy shit and it made me sad. I didn’t say anything. They didn’t know that I knew who and what they were talking about, but that isn’t the point. I could have said something, I could have at least changed the subject, but I didn’t. I also know, when asked for my opinion, that I am not always tactful and that this can come across as being negative or judgmental. But I will say for the record that what I say and my opinions of people and places and things are what I would say to those people in person and have.

I do not like secrets. I do my best to have none and to have no reason for them in my life. I can be trusted with others secrets, sure, but I want to live my life out in the open, unburdened by such things. I choose not to lie and not to keep people in my life who would or have lied to me. I know I expect too much of others but it is only because I push myself to be better and because I love them so much that I do.

I will do better by me and by those I care about when it comes to this stuff. I have to. I want to create the life I need to be the best me. And there is no room for hate in this life. There is no room for judgment and shame. I will allow others to do and live as they see fit and walk away from what isn’t helping, healing, growing or teaching me. It is hard, for sure, but it is necessary and it comes from a place of love and respect, for this world, for them and for myself.

Rad Fatty Love,
<3
S

This is the third part in a three-part series.

I didn’t know it at the time, but remnants of the mask clung to my face and my life. My marriage was not what it seemed and no one believed me when I shared my pain. I threw myself into what I could impact in a positive way and hoped things would turn out alright. When it all became too much I sold the café and walked away without regret. I was proud of what I had accomplished and knew I was a richer person, though not financially, for having done it. It was then that I knew my marriage was over. When the person who I trusted and loved most of all and considered my partner in life admitted to me that there was nothing in our marriage to fix I withdrew.

I turned to my writing and my fat community and longed for something more from life. I sat each night, writing and struggling with the agony of seeing the lie that I had been living. The mask, so alluring and deceiving, yet comfortable in its way.  I thought I had left the mask behind but it is never so simple. When those closest to you close themselves off to you, when you are shut out without truly knowing what or why, you begin to wear a mask without consent.

I grew suspicious of the world and of modern society. The intent of every person in my life was in question. How could I trust anyone? Is everyone wearing the damned mask? How do I get rid of it once and for all? My heart was on the line and I was a wreck. Once again faced with doing something or accepting the false reality I was living, I ripped the band aid off and moved out on my own. It was a chance at a new life, a real one, one of my choosing. I left my marriage in the physical sense, but emotionally I clung to it like the last remnants of summer before school begins.

I had to learn to trust myself again. I had to find a deeper trust in me than I’d know before. I struggled and resisted my own company and solitude until I couldn’t anymore. I discovered the beauty in my own vulnerability and the incredible power that being confident and loving your body provides. I met new people and tried new things. I got hurt by those I loved and thought loved me equally. I was mislead and disappointed. I trusted too soon, too fast. I wanted too much. I wanted authenticity from everyone…unreasonable at best.

Today I find myself looking back and reflecting once again and it is now that I see the mask is finally gone from me. I can’t say that it is for good, but I know that this is the realest and truest me than any incarnation before it. I know what I want and need in my life and I am working hard to attain it. The lies have been brought out into the light and my emotions wrung dry with more tears than I knew I had the capacity. I now see that I can only truly trust me.

My instincts are right and my heart, while young and strong in its own ways, tells no lies. I now meet people with an open mind and can see behind their masks, if only briefly. I keep my distance the best I can, but I want them to know that there is a better way to live. Happy is something you choose. Happy is something inside of you right now. The mask will never lead you there and its delusions will only keep you off track. When you are ready to strip away everything that is holding you back and weighing you down you can finally see the life you want and will do anything to get it.

People will only believe what they are comfortable with; there is nothing you can do to change that until they are ready to see it for themselves. I hope this will change soon, but right now I do not feel that I can trust anyone. I have seen things in people recently that have proven this to be true. You can never truly know a person if they don’t first know themselves. This is a harsh thing for me to accept. I always want to believe that if I care and love enough that it will somehow help and inspire and heal others. It just isn’t real, though.

Trust. It’s a rickety bridge we all choose to cross. We can place our feet on each new plank with the solid belief that it was well built and thus sturdy, but in the end it’s only ever going to be as steady and as stable as we fool ourselves into believing. Once we see the truth behind the mask,  we see that it’s held together with nothing but lies, glue stick and glitter. Attractive, of course, how else to get so many weary travelers to cross? When you’re out there in the middle and hanging on for dear life, who and what do you trust?

I would prefer a harsh truth over a pretty lie any damned day. I choose the truth as I would choose freedom or breathing. I can only honor and be my most authentic self when I am carrying the truth within me and fighting for the truth to be told. When I accept others lies and allow them to continue to betray my trust, I allow and accept the mask and the lies back in my life and support the life that that will surely create. And I refuse to do this anymore.

This may all sound like some bitter rant from a jaded fat woman hurt by too many people, but I awoke with a deep feeling that things are not what they seem. That the people I trust and love are not who I thought they were and while it’d be easy to just ignore it as paranoia and let my gut feeling subside on its own, I refuse. I want more and I want better. I have not worked too hard to just let all that matters to me go. If they aren’t what they seem and my suspicions are correct, why continue to nurture what isn’t real?

So I am trusting me and I am doing my best to stay open to the new and the good in my life. I am blessed and grateful for all that I do have that is real and true. I cannot force or persuade others to see what they refuse to believe even exists and so I must let it go. It is so painful and hard, but necessary. I can’t continue to trust in anyone that doesn’t trust me with the truth.

My love, respect, kindness and honesty,
Always <3
Sarah

This is the second part in a three-part series.

Trust has been a recurrent theme and struggle in my life. From too early an age I saw those who wore the mask, those who chose to, those who didn’t know it existed and those who reveled and relished in its existence. I spent much of my childhood alone, either in my room or outside in our carport because my mother yelled, “Go outside and play!” I had a sense of self and memories of laying in my own crib as an infant or early toddler. I remember the moment when I realized that my parents weren’t quite what they seemed, when adults became human and when friends fumbled over their pretty lies to soften the heavy blows they dealt me with each one.

I was five years old when I first accepted that wearing the mask was both easier and better than facing anything real. Ridicule, shame and guilt proved far more pain than the truth and my own honesty was worth. When the trust and the lies entwined in such a delicate pattern that they appeared as a truer tapestry of reality than the one I thought I knew; I was the victim, in denial, who tried to cover up her own abuse. At seven years old I denied, to the police and to lawyers, my own instance of sexual molestation. I thought if I kept the mask on that they would just let me be a kid for a bit longer, that I wouldn’t have to go on the witness stand and perhaps I wouldn’t be in trouble or punished.

Unfortunately the real punishment was the pattern itself repeating, at fourteen years old. This early bloomer was suddenly knee deep in hot-stoner-boy-paradise and hungry for teenage make outs, stolen moments and quickly forgotten promises. Heartbreak, heartache, shame and stigma all swirled in my adolescent brain until I believed that to live meant to always be in pain. I met my abuser six months later. For the next five years I was a near-hostage in my own home. The abuse began slowly and was always followed with apologies and gestures. And the day he nearly killed me and I regained consciousness cursing that he hadn’t, I knew it was too late to take the mask off. The mask became my savior and my survival.

I clung to fantasy and took every chance to escape choosing to deal with the punishment and abuse rather than lose or waste the opportunity. I grew to trust no one. If I trusted I could be killed. This is what I was told and what I believed. I had only one friend by this time who stuck by me through it all )and I am so blessed to still call her my friend and chosen sister today), but we chose to talk about it only rarely and I sugarcoated what little I shared. When at last my independence and final escape from that hellish existence presented itself I leaped without looking. I had no identity of my own, no life or much in the way of possessions. I am alive today because of that leap.

I trusted only that I breathed and walked and lived. I trusted only that the sun would set and the moon would come, eventually, to greet me and my insomnia. I soon reunited with old and made new friends, I met boys and trusted too soon. I fell in love and had my heart broken. It was all too much and pretending that all past abuses never occurred, I nearly took my life over that heartbreak. When a kindred spirit found me in the most vulnerable moment of my life and made me laugh, we became instant friends. When heartbreak visited him and he found himself on the cliff of self destruction, we bonded through our pain and self  loathing and we became more and eventually married (we were together for 14 years, married for 8).

When lost in the corporate abyss, carrying the weight of that same old self loathing, I caught a glimpse of my life and how it contrasted with others. I saw that while the abuses I have survived have shaped me, they have also kept me more honest than I knew. It was around this time that I first heard about the fat acceptance movement in BUST magazine in an article about the U.K. Chubsters, a fat gang of radical bad asses. I saw punk incarnate! I saw the core of my very being right there on the page (magazine and web). In a sea of cubicles, I was done with the energy and effort wasted on hating myself and my body, in the name of fitting in/getting ahead/being popular/accepted. I was finally ready to get to know me.

I obsessed and gathered and researched all I could on fat acceptance at first. It’s all I cared about for awhile. It was all so exciting and new. It empowered and inspired me to be my best and truest self. I faced my fears and my inner demons, discovered new truths about my personality and needs, it connected me most importantly to my body. For the first time in my entire life I heard from people all over the world that I should trust my body. That I should embrace and love my body. That I shouldn’t feel bad or shamed or guilty for having a fat body. They said that I could be sexy and have better sex, too! I got to know myself more and more each day and began to share what I was feeling, and what I had been through and survived, with others.

While it took years for me to be able to accept a compliment of any nature, I can now look back and smile at my life no matter how lost or turbulent it was at times. I had found a way to live a life that was true to me and was ready to leave the mask behind for good. I resisted diet talk and educated anyone with an open ear (and mind) on the beauty of self acceptance and love. I tried new things and discovered that I was worthy and could wear cute dresses. I was encouraged and inspired by my fat community to open and operate my own café, even though I had a fat body. I was empowered and strong and no one could stop me, but me. I did what I was told was impossible and smiled in the face of every fucking obstacle that came my way.

(Stay tuned for part three tomorrow!)

Trust. It’s a tricky thing. It’s really only a delusion or a flexible perception. It’s not reality. You cannot touch it. Oh, sure, you can feel it, but to even describe it will prove difficult. Trust; varying in degrees of longevity and resilience. We place it first in our parents as only the pure and inexperienced could. We trust them with our very existence; not that we yet have reason or perception so young. We grow up and participate in a society that lulls us into believing and disbelieving who we can and cannot, should and should not trust based on little more than gathered opinion sprinkled with common sense. We trust in a foundation built long before fingerprinting or forensic science  (or bad cell phone photos) could prove that those we place this trust in aren’t who they seem.

Trust is both fluid and rigid. You may trust people because you are related by blood or have come to know over a long time. You might trust easily and willingly and happily while others keep many at arm’s length. Perhaps you trust only a single soul with your secrets, your desires, your life and safety. Some only trust in what is solid and tangible. We try as a society to buy into the fantasy of balance, but do any of us really trust even that?

We are told so many lies throughout our lives. Every single person we come in contact with has lied to us in some way, shape or form. We choose to not only accept this but to participate in it willingly and knowingly perpetuate it. We are told to tell the truth, to believe in ourselves, be a good citizen an neighbor to others, to be kind and generous and to treat others as we would want to be treated. We are so rarely taught or told to simply trust in ourselves, our instincts and our bodies.

Before adolescence we are explicitly instructed to not trust our bodies and our impulses. We are bathed in the slick waters of shame before most of us understands the words and actions they represent. Once we begin to see or feel or experience these things for ourselves we begin to develop our own understanding of both our bodies and others perceptions and judgments. We are told to think for ourselves but are punished for being individuals. This does not end with adolescence.

In adulthood we are fooled and cajoled into trusting that we have control over our lives and our destiny when we live within a system that would crumble if we truly believed a word of it. Asking questions is frowned upon, being informed raises suspicions, pointing to the guilty only places the spotlight of guilt and shame upon you. When intent is weighed in any situation we can quickly see how there are far more than two sides to any story.

We find living a life behind a mask of happiness, or the pursuit of it (no matter the cost),  is far easier than sharing our emotions and connecting with others. Soon the mask gets comfortable and we forget we’re wearing it. We believe that the mask is our own, our personality and our truest selves. We trust in the lie because it’s easier to believe. It’s more comfortable to be wrapped up in a nice cozy blanket indoors than it is to step outside into the harsh grey reality of the life you built or have accepted as your own.

To reflect upon the life you are living right now in this moment is to see the lie you have chosen to live. The cozy blanket feels flimsy and damp in the rays of sunshine you once placed upon your optimistic future self. You suddenly can’t figure out what happened or where you could have gone wrong. You truly don’t recall why it is that you’ve come to this juncture in your life. You worked hard and fell in line and did your best to think for yourself and to trust those you love.

But you never truly trusted in yourself. You never stopped to question why it is you had to fall in line. You consumed what was served and never asked for options. How you were raised became what you believe. With each spoonful of lies was the insistence to trust, but not yourself and not your body. Your instincts were ridiculed and you shamed for trusting them. You forgot what it felt like to have a gut feeling about anything after awhile. You may find your momentary reflections to be merely a passing phase of discomfort and go back to the lie. That’s okay, you had a tough day. Tomorrow will be better, kiddo.

If you do decide to sit for a spell and really investigate your life and yourself, you’ll find that when you do question and stand out, that you can be happy. You can be and individual and you can be confident. You will be ridiculed and shamed for it, but you can do it if you so choose. It won’t be easy, but life cannot be. Oh, you thought it would be? You were trusting the lie, remember? *Hugs*

Getting to know the deeper and more authentic you will be the hardest and best thing you can ever do. To gain the trust of yourself and of your own body is a gift and an education without tuition. There is no fast track or scholarship for this journey, though. There is no secret to getting ahead or throwing the curve. What you put in is pretty much what you will get out. You must come to know yourself and to face your fears and insecurities before you can truly know what sort of a life you really want to live. This is where I currently reside.
(Part Two tomorrow, stay tuned!)