Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #183.

Letters To My Future HusbandDear Mr. Melissa Blake:

First of all, YES, I know it’s been many, many months since I wrote a Letters To My Future Husband to, well, you. And for that, I am truly sorry, but in my defense, I have been sort of busy tearing up the writing scene!

Speaking of writing, here’s something I’ve been wondering about for the last couple weeks: Do we talk a lot about that essay I wrote way back in 2017…? Now, I’m pretty sure you know exactly which essay I’m talking about. You know, the one about how I challenged blatantly disgusting misogyny and got trolled on Twitter — all for standing up to horrible bullying.

And, oh, the comments! Don’t even get me started on those. I told myself, “OK, Melissa, you ARE NOT going to subject yourself to that rubbish, right?” But do you think I listened, Sweetpea? Of course not!

Apparently, I just had to do the exact opposite. I scrolled through comment after comment, and, honestly, it was all just more of the same. Some of my favorites — I’m paraphrasing, of course…

–If you can’t handle criticism, get off social media

–Men are bullied online just as much and as severely as women

–You do have the same rights as men, so stop your whining

There was also lots of “feminist” this and “liberal” that, as if those were somehow bad words or things to be ashamed of — for the record, I am VERY proud to be both those things.

Oh, and of course there was the comment from someone on Twitter about how all these letters to you reek of loneliness.

That last comment actually made me think. Not because I agreed with it or because it hurt my fragile feelings (cue sarcasm…), but because “loneliness” is the last word I’d ever use to describe these letters. That’s not the sort of journey I’ve been on these last nine years in writing them.

I mean, are these letters really all about you? Are they just about you? No offense, but you’re not the center of the universe; and I mean that with all the love in my heart, mind you. Because before there will ever be a Mr. Melissa Blake…there will just be me. Melissa Blake. And that’s something I’m OK with. Granted, I wasn’t always comfortable with that, but I’m getting there. In the end, maybe that’s half the battle right there.

Letters To My Future HusbandAnyway, the more I think about it, the more those types of comments prove exactly why I needed to write this essay in the first place. They’ve given me a crystal-clear glimpse of the man I don’t want you to be. An arrogant, disrespectful, misogynist mansplainer who can’t handle a strong, assertive woman.

What happened to all the good ones?? The last six months have brought out the absolute worst in so many men. Where are the good ones? I sure do wish they’d show themselves. They need to come out of hiding because for the life of me, I can’t find them anywhere. And, trust me, it’s all very distressing.

But, of course, you’d never be that guy, right, Sweetpea?? Until we meet… xoxo

[Photos via We Heart It]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #182.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:

letters to my future husband letter 182I suppose it’s only natural. Maybe even inevitable, really, if you think about it. Just as I’m starting to perhaps, sort of, kind of, come to terms with my disability where love and relationships are concerned, I come across a quote that swiftly punches me in the gut. Well, not literally, obviously, but it did feel like a pretty big shock to the system, you know, Sweet Pea?

“Nothing else is going to happen. It doesn’t matter what I want. I said goodbye to that part of my life. Joe took me to rehab the other day. We had a moment and before we kissed, he pulled away, grossed out by me and my chair. Joe’s not into me. I don’t blame him; who would be?”

–Quinn on Glee

And the most interesting thing? The quote came from Glee of all places. I mean, it’s not even a profound quote, but at the same time, it sort of is. It’s profound in its simplicity. Does that make sense? We can read all the deeply philosophical quotes that we want and those definitely have a place, but sometimes the words that mean the most — the ones that cut right through EVERYTHING and just get to the heart of your feelings. Sometimes I feel like screaming, “OMG, just get to the point already!”

Well, Quinn’s quote does exactly that. The language is stark, blunt and honest, and I can’t say enough just how refreshing this is. When it comes to television featuring characters with disabilities, it’s too often in that patronizing, “I’m a champion” way that, frankly, makes me want to throw my glass of Mountain Dew at the TV screen; it’s incredibly frustrating because in the real world, where I’ve lived 35 years as a disabled woman? That’s just NOT how things work, unfortunately. Trust me, it would be nice if life worked that way. But it doesn’t and I doubt it’s going to change any time soon. Thank goodness, then, that Quinn’s words are the absolute truth — a window into what so many people with disabilities experience. Sure, it may be something small, but at least it’s something. Plus, this was from an episode several years ago, so I’d like to think that we’ve come even farther since then. Have we? Gosh, I sure do hope so.

letters to my future husband letter 182So, Sweet Pea, you’re probably sitting there wondering, “Where in the heck do I fit into all this?” Honestly, I’m not exactly sure sometimes, but I do often think that you’ll be hearing me talk about this a lot — maybe not forever, but most definitely in the early stages of our relationship. I’m probably going to be second-guessing your interest in me, wondering how you could possibly “be into me” and…maybe even try to talk you out of it a few times?

Really, is this how it’s going to be? Is this quote really a preview of what’s to come for me? That’s a pretty bleak future, but like I said, it’s rather realistic as well. So maybe I have to reconcile the two and find some happy medium — or try to find one, at the very least. Maybe I’ll find one. Maybe I won’t. But I can guarantee that I’ll be so glad you’re along for the ride, Sweet Pea! Until we meet… xoxo

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #181.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:

There’s something you need to know about me — well, there are A LOT of things you should know, but we’ll just keep this letter to one subject since I really don’t see the need to overwhelm you, Sweetpea.

Anyway, here’s the brutal truth: I’m the type of girl who is in touch with her emotions. But I’m also the girl who is easily confused by said emotions. I know that this all sounds like some sort of confounding paradox a la The Matrix (a movie which is confusing enough in itself; hey, at least it’s got Keanu for some nice eye candy!), but it’s just the magic that is me, I suppose. I mean, for someone who knows who she is, who is (mostly!) comfortable with who she is and who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, I experience a ton of conflicting thoughts. If anyone actually took a look in my mind, they’d probably find lots and lots of floating question marks. You’d think that would be a good thing, right? It means I’m constantly questioning and wondering and forming and re-forming my thoughts, but sometimes, it’s just all too overwhelming. And if I’m being honest, it’s usually just plain annoying.

Take the subject of my disability, for instance. I sometimes find myself in a very intense emotional tug of war, especially with how I want to be perceived.

I wrestle with wanting to set good example as a woman with a disability, but I also don’t want to be held up as an example.

Does that sound really terrible? Ugh, just typing that made me scowl. It makes me sound like some selfish, narcissistic popstar who is “so tired of fame,” you know? I mean, GOSH, all that pressure I have to go through!

I am disabled. There’s no denying or questioning that. And, barring any huge advances in medical science, I’m going to be this way for the rest of my life. I’m OK with that; I’ve walked (metaphorically, obviously!) down a long path to get to the level of acceptance I feel today. So it’s not that I’m ashamed of my disability or that I have ridiculously naive notions that I’m someday just going to get up and start skipping down the street. No, no…I have absolutely no delusions of grandeur about that. I suppose it’s more that I don’t feel comfortable being some sort of “representative,” as if I can speak on behalf of every single person with a disability.

I can’t. After all, I’m only one person. I’m just Melissa — an awkward girl living in the cornfields of the Midwest. Besides, don’t you think it would bordering on arrogant to think that you can speak for thousands and thousands of people. I’ve always believed in the power of telling your story and the greatest, most beautiful thing about that?? No one can tell your story except you. No one can speak for you. No one can take that power away from you. It’s yours. It’s something you have to do for yourself because you’re the only one who knows who you are, how you feel and, most importantly, how you live your life. So it’s YOUR STORY and certainly no one else’s.

I’d like to be the type of person who feels something, thinks about it, settles on a suitable conclusion and…THAT’S IT. There’s no excessive analyzing or going around on that endless emotional merry-go-round. Can you imagine how refreshing and freeing that would be? What on earth would I do with all those newfound hours in my day? But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that — at least not fully, anyway. Or maybe, though, I don’t really want to. Maybe deep down, I kind of like that inner turmoil, as odd as that sounds. Maybe it keeps me from ever becoming lazy about my disability? I’m not sure, but I do look forward to talking about this with you, Sweetpea. Until we meet… xoxo

[Photos via We Heart It]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #180.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:
aaI’ve missed you. Wait, that sounded a lot less creepier in my head, considering we haven’t even met yet. But I do miss writing to you, something that, in a weird way, makes me feel just a little bit closer to you.

Anyway, when did we first talk about my disability? I know, it’s not something that I can easily hide — I mean, it’s pretty much out in the open 24/7. You see me and you immediately see my disability and my wheelchair. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; it’s just something you can’t help but notice, sort of like when someone is rocking a huge tattoo or gold chains. I mean, I wear my disability quite well, but you know, it can’t help but attract the eye.

Remember this guy from a few years ago? I was thinking about it again lately (I know, try not to get too jealous; maybe you’re even him?) and I realized something: This guy, he wasn’t fazed by my disability. It didn’t seem to bother him. At all. In fact, in all our interactions, it never came up. There was no awkward fumbling over words and questions. There was no sense of uneasiness. There wasn’t even any hint of him being uncomfortable.

You’d think I would have been hurt or disappointed — you know, feeling like he didn’t care or that he wasn’t interested in getting to know me — but I wasn’t. In fact, just the opposite was true. For the first time, I found myself rather relieved. I didn’t have to explain myself or go through the typical spiel that, quite frankly, I just get tired of giving sometimes.

He wanted to get to know me. That’s it. Just me. It was something so little, yet it was something so big too. It meant the world to me.

Surprising, isn’t it, Sweetpea? I guess that’s why I wonder what it would be like if we didn’t make my disability the “first order of business,” you know? It doesn’t mean that my disability is completely off the table for discussion because — HELLO! — we will be talking about it, but it doesn’t have to hang in the air with the same urgency I once thought it did.

aa2And, who was the first to bring it up? Like I’ve said before, PLEASE DON’T BE AFRAID to bring it up. But also, don’t feel like you have to, either. I’m not saying that we have to have a long, drawn-out conversation about it, where we cover anything and everything in one sitting, but I do wonder when we first put out little feelers. Because I’m sure there’s lots of things you’ll wonder about when we first meet, but what if we approached things differently? You know, dropped little bits about it into the conversation and see where things went naturally from there.

Heck, let’s be real rebels and talk about something wild and crazy like our embarrassing moments or my love of cats! You know, really do the unthinkable!

Whew! That was liberating to get all that out. I don’t know about you, but I feel much better! Until we meet… xoxo

[Photos via We Heart It]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #179.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:

I was just about to call it quits for the day and head to bed (shhh, don’t go getting any crazy ideas now, Sweetpea) and what should I find?

This amazing quote.

That’s been happening a lot to me lately. I’ve been discovering so many quotes that speak to me, and I’m not just talking about romantic ones, either. There have been plenty of quotes about love, of course, but there have also been lots of quotes about life and self-discovery and following your passion and being true to yourself and…well, I could go on, but I think you get the idea here. Suffice it to say, all that sage wisdom made me feel inspired to take on the world. Or at the very least, think about my place in it.

Which, I suppose, brings me back to this quote. I can’t help but feel like it could have been written just for us. I know this might come as a shock and be hard for you to believe, but I haven’t always been the adventurous person I am now, wherever we are when you’re reading this. Honestly, before we met, I was pretty, well ordinary and — as some may even say — rather boring. I didn’t take many risks. I didn’t feel brave enough or even confident enough to take huge leaps. And I didn’t really see the point of rolling my wheel very far outside my comfort zone. I mean, that’s why they call it a ‘comfort’ zone, isn’t it? It cozy and relaxed and familiar; you feel safe and nothing will ever surprise you or come jumping out to scare you. Honestly, since my father’s death, I sort of like cozy and predictable.

But maybe you can help me spread my wings when it comes to living a little on the wild side? No, I’m not talking about breaking the law or anything because I will always be a good girl; I’m talking about learning to live a little. Like that quote says, I want us to run together and have grand adventures. You could be the Jack to my Rose and show me a world I’ve never seen before — and I promise I’ll make room for you on that wooden door.

Because when you think about it, shouldn’t that be what marriage is all about? Making each other want to be better people, to grow, to evolve, to see life — and themselves — differently? Otherwise, what’s really the point of it all, aside from the tax deductions? I want to inspire you and I want you to inspire me. That is, after all, the definition of a true partnership, don’t you think? And I’ll settle for nothing less than that. Until we meet… xoxo

[Bottom photo via We Heart It]