Snackie's World

Philosophy: In the end, it all comes down to one word:  grace.

At least that’s what it says on my perfume bottle.  And my lotion bottle.  And my shampoo bottle.  And my…oh, you get the drift.

Of course, I never really noticed that keen little phrase stamped all over my scent of choice until the other day, when I was cruising the Sephora with this amazing man I know.    After several cocktails, sessions of witty banter and a much needed nap, I dragged my friend Davey-Joe with me to the mall so I could “quickly” run into Sephora.  As he tried to main-tainnnn while the horror of the very *idea* of that store washed over his body, I quickly scanned the lip gloss aisle then ran to the back, where I proceeded to grab up my Philosophy products for the month.   As Dave ooohed and aahed over scents like Chocolate Pudding and Rainbow Sherbet, I held up my box of perfume to his face and said, “See?  Isn’t that a great slogan?“.

After he read it aloud, he looked at me and said, “Well no wonder you like it so much, Hilly Sue!  That slogan is perfect for you! And Grace Kelly“.

I giggled as we approached the counter but his words have resonated in my head for over five days now.  Thoughts about “grace” and “class” and “mercy” have been dancing through my head like wildfire and I just cannot get deep enough to suss out their true meanings…you know, to me.  I’ve often contemplated what it is that makes someone the picture of those three things and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not really about traditional definitions anymore.  I mean yes, technically, if you want to get all Webster on my ass, it is but still…new millennium, new meanings.

I’ve recently scanned my brain in order to categorize the most amazing people I know and you know what I found?  They all exude those three characteristics.  In case you forgot what I am talking about here, let’s review.  I am talking about: grace, class, and mercy.  In the past, I’ve assumed that people had these characteristics simply because they had money and/or were raised with correct manners.  Let me tell you one thing now, my friends…you can be Beau Brumelly and still be none of those things.

There is nothing classy about letting someone else take the fall for something in which you took part.  There is no grace in publicly making fun of other people when you no longer like them.  There is no mercy in assuming the group lynch mob mentality when you only half-assed know what you are lynching in the first place.  Nay nay, you can sit in your big house with your designer clothes and your supposed wordily views but if you act like an arrogant, untouchable douchebag, then you may as well kiss it goodbye, sister.  Erm, or brother.

People often ask me how I stay quiet while dodging bullets that should not be flying my way in the first place.  In various situations, I’ve kept my cool and have not publicly lashed out against anyone.  Well, let’s be clear about something…to do so would be in poor taste.  It would be classless.  It would be disgraceful. It would be merciless.  It would not go along with who I am and/or who I want to be which is…a child of mercy and grace.  In my heart, I forgive people who have nothing better to do than tear me apart without really even knowing me that well anymore.  In my mouth, I keep ugly names at bay and only embrace the words which bring happiness to another person’s life.  In my actions, I show compassion yet also always pray for the mercy of others when I can’t quite keep all of the rest of it together.  I strive to be better, kinder, classier, more forgiving and in general, a better person.  If someone wants to come along for that ride, then all aboard!  If not then bye bye and seriously, no hard feelings.

I’m tired of shitty people getting away with shitty things because I’ve allowed them to do so.  Half of the douchebaggery that is thrust upon us is the dbag’s fault but the other half is our fault for allowing that behavior in the first place.  I’ve stopped allowing it altogether.   Instead, I’ve been focusing on people who make the world spin just by being themselves.  I am absolutely in love (platonically, duh) with my best friends, Davey Joe and Foo Diddy.  I cannot tell you how much stronger my bond has become with both of them since I pretty much left the whole blogging “scene”.  Yeah yeah, I still blog once a week but you know what I mean.  I don’t blog that much and I deleted my Twitter account because it made me want to fly into a psychotic rage every five seconds.

Pause for the cause: Retweets are the death of Twitter.  Mark my words.  If I wanted to see what someone I totally disliked was up to, I’d follow their asses.  End story.

Anyway, back to my amazing friends…

There is a genuine happiness in my relationships these days and I think the fact that I spend way less time online is a huge contributing factor.  I mean, you would think that’s a big halo of “duh” but it took me a minute to get it.  While I absolutely adore each of you that have stuck with me while I’ve gone through my various blog transformations. this blog is no longer my life.  The Internet is no longer my life.  That miserable woman who was full of piss and vitriol (thanks, divorce) no longer exists.  As a matter of fact, I told mah Davey-Joe and mah FooDiddy just the other day that finally finally finally fucking finally, I feel like the girl I was before I got married.  Just like her.  Except older and a little more wrinkled, mostly.   But but but…I’m her.  I always was her.  As a matter of fact, I’ve always been the same person, no matter what anyone else wants to say on that subject.  Hrmph, I’ve never been anyone else but “me”.  And you know what?  I never ever ever will.

I’m A Grown-Ass Woman Kisses,
Me

I stood leaning against my car, trying to look mad when all I really was feeling was some sort of undefinable pain.  He walked to where I was standing, arms crossed, and upon seeing the look on my face, took my hand and said, “Come on inside and let’s talk, okay?”.  I reluctantly let him rub my back as I walked into his front door, knowing what was about to come.  I found the familiar spot on the floor in the corner of the room then sat down and curled my knees up to my chest…a position that had only recently become comfortable after having lost 25 pounds.    I wanted to look up at him but I couldn’t.  My eyes darted across flecks of carpet and sunflower seed shells that had found their way under his couch.  It was like I was under water, trying desperately to hold on to the anchor keeping me there rather than coming up and gasping for air.

“I came…”, I started to say, “I came to…”.

My words trailed off as the flood gates opened and tears started streaming down my face.  These weren’t the kind of tracks that formed when soft tears fall but rather the kind that had been bottled up for too long.  There was a sobbing that I had only maybe felt once or twice before, back when I actually allowed myself to cry.

He came to where I was sitting and wrapped himself around me as best he could.  He took my head and put it on his shoulders and said, “I know.  I know.  I know.“  He held my hand and listened to me for hours.  I had come to tell him that I was wrong and that I was sorry (baby).  I had been distant, aloof and cold because I was afraid to feel.  I wanted him to know that I was done turning it off and that I was able to be myself again.  I wanted to tell him so many things but he knew just by the way I held his hand and clung to him for dear life.

That was the first time I had cried over a man or to a man in quite some time.  In fact, it was the first time I had cried over much at all.

This afternoon as I relayed this story to a co-worker, her mouth dropped open in complete shock.  “Wait“, she said, “You cried over a boy?  You don’t cry…especially not over men.”

It was at this moment that I realized just how cold and hard I had recently made my heart.  I mean, not only that but I had locked the damned thing up so tight that no one could see just how rapidly it was bleeding on to the floor.  I’ve held it all in…the pain, the resentments, the anger, the fear and most of all the utter devastation of certain losses.  I’ve done what I always do but this time with an army’s strength.  My foot would stride in front of the other over and over again until I had tucked my hair under my helmet like a good little soldier and had become immune to emotional gloom.  I put on my sunshine smile and met each loss and each obstacle with a genuine rationale that none of them mattered as long as I focused on the good and amazing things in my life.  You know, finding the good in things is never a bad idea at all but as human beings with such varied emotions, we have to be able to take those face punches and let the bruises show rather than hiding them with make-up.

It’s not a falsehood that my life is good because really, it is.  I am blessed to have a man who sticks by my side, waiting patiently for me to be able to commit and be ready to love again.  On the flip side of that, I’ve had young men crawling all over me and offering me their paltry affections while I heal my heart and decide what I truly want.  My friendships feel more genuine than anything I’ve ever known because I am finally allowing myself to just be the me that I want to be, no apologies.  In fact, it was awesome the other day when one of my besties said to me, “Okay, you have to tell me when things are bad in your world because I am oblivious and think you are always okay.  I feel like such a bad friend” and I was able to turn around and honestly look at myself then say, “It’s not really your fault.  I hide myself away from the world and only show you the happy side most times.  You’re not a mind reader.”

I guess what I’m trying to work through now are the sad emotions.  There are unspeakable losses that I’ve suffered over the last few months and while some were my fault and some certainly were not, they mattered.  Just because I am not the type of person to weep all over my page here at any given moment like I used to, that does not mean that I am incapable of feeling.  In fact, it’s quite the opposite.  I have been giving away so many of my precious affections to the people that are constantly in my face that I have forgotten that it’s okay to mourn the losses of those that aren’t.  Saying that I miss someone’s presence in my life is not the same thing as surrendering and admitting defeat…it’s just an honest declaration of the way my guts feel on any given Sunday.  Just because I’m healthy enough to know when other people are bad for my life that does not mean that I’ve forgotten how they once made my heart smile.

I’m not callous.  I’m not cold.  I’m not the woman “who doesn’t cry and especially not over men”.  I’m not a soldier.  I’m not hard.

Behind the bright smile and the constantly flowing jokes lies a person just like you…a person who is doing her best to survive in a world gone mad.  I make mistakes like everyone else and I pay for them…like everyone else.  A man who I am not supposed to care about one bit hurt me so deeply this last weekend that I cried in his arms, despite the fact that I’ve only known him a few months.  I sat in the middle of another man’s living room, finally showing him that I was ready to love after telling him for such a long time that love was a fairy tale only to be stomped upon by giants and ex-husbands.  I reached out to my best friend yesterday and basically said, “I need you.  When can I see you?”.  I sit here, for the first time in almost six months, opening myself back up to you, my readers.  I’ve only been showing you half of me for quite some time because I wasn’t ready to face some of the pain again.  I wanted to go on living my life of dancing, drinking, smoking the weed and dating much younger men.  I wanted to go on smiling and pretending that it’s all going to be okay as long as I never let myself hurt again.

The truth is that yes, it *is* all going to be okay but the only way to make that happen is to cry just as much as a laugh, scream just as much as I’m silent, reach out just as much as I retreat and to apologize just as much as I assume and attack.  There is no yang without my yin and in my maniacally happy state, I forgot that allowing myself to feel the bad didn’t necessarily mean that I would go back to the same misery I felt a year ago at this time.  In fact, I think that as of today…right now…I am the most balanced I have been in quite some time.  This is why I am finding it so easy to lose weight.  This is why I am finding it so easy to bond with my friends.  This is why I am ready to tell him that I only want to be his and that I think…I think I may love him.

Best Friends Forever Kisses,
Me