Accepting My Reality

I have wondered where my words have gone. I've heard lately that some of you have wondered this, too. For those of you who have found something of value in my sharing, I'm sorry my fount has dried up. But the truth is, I just got tired of writing the same sorrowful words, over and over again. The truth of my life hurts, still hurts, has been hurting for over three decades, and pouring out the same heartaches here for others to read...why? Aren't you tired of hearing the same questions that never have answers? I'm sick to death of it.

I have been refusing to accept my life for the last four years. Well, for all of my near-32 years actually, but most painfully over the recent ones. I have sought everything I thought could be missing: the "ideal" weight I've been trying to obtain for 21 years. Finishing a Bachelor's degree like the rest of my siblings. The most flattering designer jeans. The best overpriced highlights, the perfect cut. Balanced, responsible finances. A new church, exploring my faith, deeper spiritual practice.

I've even gotten rid of every single non-necessity in my home in an effort to simplify; it hasn't been enough to help me feel rid of the burden. The baggage. The mistakes. Nothing works.

Indeed, I have learned better ways to take care of myself in many respects. But what is my reality, still? That I am a 31 year old, divorced, overweight woman, who has tried anything and everything to make my life what I thought it was supposed to be. I've tried to be pretty enough without being too beautiful, strong enough without losing my femininity, weary enough without being too needy, gentle enough without being a pushover, smart enough without fear of ridicule, confident enough without fear of being thought arrogant, forthcoming enough without being intimidating. Ever and always too much...yet never enough. That is what I've understood, accepted, internalized, and rallied against all my life.

Nothing fills the empty space in my heart, so tonight, I accept it. I've put myself out there when I really didn't want to and when it scared the crap out of me. Never noticed, never pursued. I've done all that I can think of. So, instead of waiting for life to be better, for my partner to come, I stop waiting. I eat what I enjoy, gain back some weight and throw the scale away. I finish the degree when I don't know what it will do for me. I tell God, night after tear-filled night, of how forgotten and invisible I feel, how angry I am that He didn't make one of the wanted girls.

I keep putting love out into the world when I'm able, even when it's not going to change a thing, even when it feels like no one appreciates the woman that I am except other women and those unavailable men. I accept that my single life isn't going to change. And finally, on Friday, I go ahead and start looking at houses. What I've been wasting my time and hopes for, I don't know anymore. This is my reality. Painful though it may be, admitting it is also, somehow, very freeing.