It's no secret that my heart is broken right now. I'm real, and always myself... And aside from not letting others see me when I sneak off to have a quiet moment alone... I can sometimes wear my feelings on my sleeve, whether I want to or not.
I've always been told that this is a downfall of mine, but I beg to differ. If there is one thing that my past relationship taught me, and taught me well, it's that it takes a lot more courage to be yourself and to let your guard down in the face of an uncertain future than it does to put your walls up and not allow yourself to feel.
I let myself love, knowing that I could get hurt. I was hurt, but the experience of loving another person is always worth the pain.
I know that sounds cliche, but I mean that. I really do. This individual made me feel loved when we were together. We shared genuine smiles. He got to know many of my secrets and insecurities, and I know that for the most part, he tried to treat them with care. Circumstances change though, and with change in circumstance, comes choice. He made a choice to follow his heart... and his heart was somewhere else.
Do I think I could have been the right woman for him? Yes. But it doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what he thinks... and he chose to invest his heart in someone he felt was more worthy.
Do I think she was more worthy? Of course not. But I know nothing about her other than that we share a home state, a passion for living with Christ, and a love for animals, our families, nature, and a few types of music.
She sounds like an amazing woman. Maybe even someone I would want to get to know. I don't blame her for my sadness.
I blame myself. This broken heart needed to happen. I knew that I loved this person, and that he loved me, but I never felt as though I was a priority for him. I always felt like an afterthought...
Let me tell you; I have spent years being a man's afterthought. It may be sad sometimes to be alone, but it is not sadder than hearing someone tell you he loves you and watching him court another person as though she is the real object of his affection. It is not sadder than having him call you to wake you up, and seeing him call another woman's picture beautiful online less than 10 minutes after hanging up the phone. It is not sadder than knowing that he wants her to meet his family, but that for some reason you do not live up to the "meet the parents" standard. And it is not sadder than hearing him tell you that he would rather pray with her every night and morning than with you.
At some point, you have to realize that it's time to cut the cord. I had to stand up for what I know I deserve. I deserved all of the parts of him that he was giving to her... And more. But he made a choice. He chose to love her.
I made a choice too. I chose to love myself. For the first time in many years, I stood up for the love I deserve. And I actually believe that it is possible for me to find such a love.
When I was younger, I didn't think I was worth it, so I stayed in relationships for years with guys who abused me, cheated, and treated me as less than a person. I thought that having a disability meant that I would have to settle for someone who could look past my physicality. And that sometimes , settling meant other drawbacks too. Some love is better than none. I thought.
But I don't really want someone to look past my disability I don't want just "some love." I want someone to love me. All of me. Sure, I may never be able to carry my own tray at McDonalds, but if I can represent him in court, make his favorite slow cooker chili, tell him I love him in multiple languages, and out lift most women on a weight bench... what is there to look past?
Ok, so I have armbraces... But that's really no different than a man who is short or has a "beer gut" or a receding hairline. It's just a physical characteristic. I may need help with some things, but so will he.
My differences don't make me worth less. They add to my value. Without my armbraces, I would not be as patient as I have become. I would not understand the beauty of what it means just be able to take a simple walk outside. I would not know the simple thrill of skiing down a hill for the first time, after thinking for years that it was impossible. I would take less pleasure in many simple things.
I would not understand what it means to persevere, to be the underdog. I would understand the concept of discrimination. I would not be a civil rights lawyer.
Moreover, I would not relate to people who are angry at God in times of sorrow and bad circumstance. I would not have such a space in my heart for the downtrodden and misguided people in the world.
I know that my disability has made me worth more, because it has made me more. More than a WASP from the South. More than a thirty something stuck between Gen X and the Millenials. More than a Christian who tries her hardest to be in church every time the doors are open.
It has given me more depth, perspective and passion than any man meeting me on the street will see in his snap judgement, based on the appearance of my rolling feet, hunched frame, or concentrated stare.
Though he might have me look another way, I wouldn't.
Because I am thoughtful, smart, funny , sexy, confident, and worth every second of his time. There is a man out there somewhere who will see me, and recognize this truth. He won't have to look past a thing, because he will know that looking past any one part of me takes away from the beauty of the whole.
When we love someone-- and really love them-- we love it all. Every last imperfect bit. Because the imperfect bits make up a complete, God-breathed picture of humanly-flawed perfection.
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