My wholeness is on me. No one else. Just me. It's all up to me.

April 11, 2018 Email to Janson

So I haven't heard from you except for those initial accolades about the book earlier this afternoon. I had my rest. Now I'm back at the laptop, working on my tech writing project, and making jewelry. Making more jewelry than working on the tech writing project. Which is not good. I am guilty of "pleasure seeking behavior". Well. Aren't we all?

I have very little left I take pride in now. I lost my career, my inflated income, and my intelligence. Of course I'm still smart, but my brain isn't working collaboratively (nice word I often used in job interviews), so I've lost a degree of my executive reasoning skills (nice psychological term for diminished problem solving ability).

The one thing I can still do, and I believe I can still do very well, is write. So I write. I write a lot. I write every day. I'm very proud of my writing. I think it has real significance. I think it needs to go out into the world and be consumed by women that suffer with the issues I suffer with. And maybe they will see that they aren't "bad girls". That they're just sick, and that they must never give up the fight for quality of life. And that when they see and grasp that they're in relationships that are poisoning their spirits, they will make their way out of those relationships. That's why I wrote the book. For all the suffering Me's.

I don't know why I'm writing you this most eloquent email. Smile. I guess, more than anything in the world, I seek to be understood. I seek to be valued for my mind, for the enduring legacy I hope to leave. Which is not my giant tits. Now I'm thankful for my giant tits. Don't misunderstand. I'm happy that I have a body that gives me pleasure and that gives those men I deem worthy pleasure. I don't like being fat, but I like that I'm liked for being fat. Go figure.

I'll tell the most blessed thing that's happened to me since I started online dating. I used to go out to a restaurant and people would stare, men would stare, and I would think they were staring at me because I'm fat and disgusting. Now, when the same thing happens, I think that perhaps they're BBW lovers, and if they had the guts, they'd walk over and say hi, perhaps ask for my number. Now that's a complete turnaround. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that is one serendipitous gift which has come out of all this. My finally owning that I'm beautiful, that I have worth as a woman, as a sexual being. That's been the best and most enduring gift of all.

I always knew my mind was keen. But I hated how I looked. Now I live life pretty boldly, although I still make sure I buy shirts that cover my arms. I guess you can't completely erase a lifetime of being shamed for being who you are. But fuck shit piss goddamn, I'm working on it. Let's see how far I get in this race before I take my final breath. I hope and believe I will come to a full acceptance of who I am, all of it. Because making me feel whole about my wholeness is on me. No one else. Just me. It's all up to me.

And, once again, just writing this email I feel better. I've eliminated the inner doubt that I'll be rejected by you. Because it doesn't really matter. It will be sad; it will sting if things go that route. I consider us both beautiful spirits, talented artists, and perhaps we are both tortured souls. I feel a kinship.

But if things don't work out, I still have work to do on ME. And I won't let anything stop my progression. Because no other person, no man defines who I am. My wholeness is on me. No one else. Just me. It's all up to me.

I wish you all good things.

Best,

Coco

[Originally published 7/18/2022]