They that underestimate me have it coming to them.
I overcame autism, dyslexia, eating disorders, bipolar disorder, a despicable marriage to a small man and a worse divorce to a coward.
I’ve overcome physical and emotional abuse, PTSD, agoraphobia, medications that dulled my mind and broke my spirit, prognoses that would terrify anybody. Heartbreak that would crush a lesser man. I’ve been told I would never have children. I came back from death more times than I can count.
I may never be ordinary, but I am exceptional at being extraordinary. I’m brilliant and tough, well-spoken and versed. I’ve traveled on my own on a wing and a prayer. I’ve made friends in every corner of the world. I am welcomed with open arms wherever I go. I am valued for my conversation, my wit, my humor, my keen mind, my compassion and kindness.
I’ve collected more lovers than is decent to convey here. Powerful and successful men who prize me as their equal or superior. I have seen things with eyes so unique and conveyed with words so distinctive that people read me, follow me, invite me out to get the real truth.
I didn’t buy any of this. I didn’t inherit it. I didn’t lean on anyone to get here. I fought for it all. Multiple times. Against foes who wished me hobbled and vanquished and smote. Against naysayers who thought I exaggerated for attention. Against people of small vision and others who could only see what they lacked but wished to have it anyway.
So maybe NYC will be harder to get to than I thought. It only makes it more worth the getting.
I am but one. But I am not alone. And in retrospect, this will just be another sequence that makes me stronger. And they that underestimated me will be lost to history…irrelevant…inconsequential.