For those who know me personally, I am the "glitter queen". One of my trademarks is wearing loose glitter, to add a bit of sparkle to my already unique personality. But recently, I haven't been feeling as glistening, sparkling, or luminescent. I haven't felt like myself. With the lack of a paying job after being let go with no reason, I've had a lot of time to myself, and have been doing a good bit of soul searching. Which up until recently, wasn't that great. I had a hard time trying to figure out who I really was, what I wanted out of life, and trying to move forward with all that. This past weekend finally opened my eyes to a lot of answers to those questions.
My weekend started with seeing Carlos Mencia live on stage. My jaw hurt from laughing so hard, and I hadn't let myself relax and enjoy anything like that in a long time. His comments and jokes, though offensive as they are, were great. He covered everything from being overweight, to the shooting in Colorado, to Whitney Houston's death to racism. He always has a great message though that tells us we NEED to laugh at ourselves to make it in this world. We can't take everything so seriously. If we do, then we become the nut jobs that go out mass murdering people over a broken nail. It made me realize that I was taking a lot of things in my personal inventory too seriously. I realized I had to loosen up. Not long before that performence, a dear friend of mine and I had coffee and had said similar things, but in a much more blunt, no holds back kind of way. He basically said at times, I was being a bitch. That I was being selfish, and not appreciating what I had in life. I wasn't happy about that statement, but needed to hear it. I don't know if I did in person, but I thank him for that.
Later this weekend, I went to visit some long lost friends from middle schoool/high school in Deleware. I only knew them for 2 1/2 years, but they are some of the few people I still keep in touch with after moving around being an Air Force brat for so long. I was given a tour of my old stomping grounds, after not being there for 11+ years. Boy did things change! The housing on the base was demolished, and the house I grew up in for those 2 1/2 years no longer existed. The houses were a totally different design! I was utterly lost until I saw the middle school, which was the only thing left unchanged. The sight of that school triggered a levy break that flooded my mind of memories. Great memories that I cherish, but had been drowning out of my mind with negative ones of everything I had experienced after I moved away from that place. Memories of my friends, performances, inspiring teachers, dates at the bowling ally, games at school, everything washed over me. I felt like I was 14 again. An age where I was a heck of a lot more innocent, and a lot happier. With the exception of the birth of my daughters, those were the best days of my life. Days I don't recognize in the now.
After the tour, and feeling the glow of my childhood returning, I went to a housewarming party with my old friends. I got to meet new ones, and again, laughed so hard, my jaw was hurting. I, as usual, assumed that a "house warming" meant it was in a townhome, apartment, or something of the like. I never in my life imagined that it would be a trailor home. Now, I lived in a trailer before, but it was never my choice of residence. And I always held a resentment towards people living in one, due to my own personal experiences. I looked down on them, as if the stereotypes were true of people who live in them. Getting ready for this event, I dressed as I thought appropriate. A nice dress, ballet flats, and my usual sparkles, make-up, and jewelry, which can be seen by my profile picture on this site. I entered the trailer, and felt ostracized instantly. Everyone else was in jeans, t-shirts, flip flops, little make-up (if any). I felt like the odd one out, but oddly enough, didn't feel judged. It took me a while to figure out why. I sat there, and made mental notes of everyone in the room, and was thrown by the fact that they didn't seem to be doing the same to me. As we ate, chatted, and I relaxed, I got to see the reason as to why my fears of judgement weren't coming to volition. They didn't care what I looked like, what my make-up was like, or how I spoke. All things I worry about on a daily basis. I was the one judging them. For no reason. I was the bitch my friend was trying to tell me I was starting to become.
I am very weary of how I come across to others. It was instilled into me as a child that how others see you is important. Almost as important as your education. After being overweight since 3rd grade, I became almost obsessed over my appearance, and only recently had succeeded in at least the weight loss portion of my mask. I always have make-up on, in a fashion that I feel makes me look my best, even when I'm at home all day. I don't dare let anyone see me without it, not even my roommates. I only have a few outfits I wear almost daily, because they show off my best features. I don't dare let you see a bruise or my largly muscular calves. Those are flaws, and I shouldn't have flaws.
After getting to see these amazing people at their best; laughing at each other, with each other, and even making fun of the one black guy in the room being the blame for everything (he joked about it more than anyone else!), it made me see that true friends don't care if you wear the most form fitting dress or a pair of jeans that a worn and comfier than wearing a cloud. They don't care if your hair isn't flat ironed perfectly or still has a few kinks in it from being braided the night before. True friends care about making you laugh, making you see the mistakes you are doing in your life, and point them out to you. They will knock over your block pyramid, laugh in your face, then help you build it back up again. The people I knew back home, didn't help me rebuild. They gossip about each other, make fun of each other (behind their backs) and will look down on you if you look a little bit "WalMart". I realized these weren't my true friends. The friends I came to visit, some I hadn't seen in over a decade, were the same people I had known and loved all those years ago. And they still loved me. REALLY loved me.
The next day, I went to the Baltimore Orioles game at Camden for an event for one of my DE friends Air Force Squadron. It was also a chance to do some PR for my organization. We ended up getting rained out, but all had a great time chatting and enjoying the ballpark treats huddled under the awnings. After going home, and after an emotional weekend with one of my dearest friends, I had a major heart to heart with my fly boy.
For the past 13 years that we've known each other, after I moved away from Dover, we have only been able to see each other once every year, or for a while, every 2-3 years. We text almost every day now, but had lost contact a few times after my initial moves for years at a time. But this person, to me, has been the one person I look to for advice, a shoulder to cry on, a good laugh, or a much needed hug. He has been the one person who has been there for me, even through all my trials and tribulations, mistakes, and "f-ups". He's also been the one man who has broken my heart over the years more than anyone else. We met in my freshman year of high school, and dated a whopping 3 months. He broke up with me back then with a note he had his friend give me, since he was too scared to give it to me himself. Years later, after making peace, and finding each other again, we talked, and the relationship was close to wear it was. Until he told me when he came to visit me all the way in Indiana at my college that he was engaged. I was crushed again. I didn't realize that the feelings I had for him were still there. We lost contact again for a few years, and I got married and had my oldest. After leaving the abusive spouse, my fly boy and I began talking again. I was seeing someone else, and so was he. The jealousy on both sides was there. But, we had made a pact that if things didn't work out, we'd try again. That, or just get married when we turned 30 for the tax benefits. I had my 2nd daughter, and was in that relationship for quite a while. My fly boy got married and had a family of his own. But when he named his daughter after my second daughter's middle name, I could see the love was still there. We didn't see each other again for a while (last July), but I was violently ill, and in a rough place. I had lost my job, a relationship, and was not handling it well. He didn't care. He was there to listen, and to comfort me. I took it for granted back then, since I wasn't emotionally capable of being grateful back then.
After spending most of the weekend with him, and friends I hadn't spent the time I should have with, I broke down to him. I couldn't do the once-a-year-maybe-more meetings anymore. It tore me apart to see the wonderful people that truly care for me and love me for who I am only once every 12 months, or more. I love them just as much as they love me, and apologized for not telling them so. I apologized for ignoreing them at times, when they didn't always ignore me. And I finally expressed that after all the hearbreak and hurtful things he had done to me over the years, I still loved him no matter what. I was still here 13 years later, smiling almost the entire time. Feeling at home. Feeling like I could strip the make-up off my face, and know he wouldn't care if I had circles under my eyes or a scar from a zit. I felt glowing with him even without my glitter on my chest. It was one of the most bittersweet cries I had had in a long time. Bitter, because my pride had built it up inside for the past few days, probably years. Sweet, because the reaction from him was mutual. We both finally got to express that the love that is there, whatever form it may be, will always be there. And we both made a pact to change the long term hiatuses we had been doing over the dozen plus years.
We also made a promise to each other to be better about expressing our feelings, no matter what they are. Being stoic, graceful and high and mighty has made me look fake. And in a way, I am when I'm like that. I'm not honest when someone asks me if I'm having a bad day, and saying I'm fine. When I'm mad at someone, and I hold it in, and don't tell them they've offended or hurt me, I'm only hurting myself. After 13 years of this, I finally see now what a lot of people have been saying about me (mainly behind my back). Although I shine, smile and carry myself in away that puts me above others, internally I am lackluster, gray and rotting. The emotional pain festers and grows to a cancerous tumour that has been slowly eating me away to a hollow shell of a friend, mother, and lover. Thank to my flyboy and a few others, I see now that I must tear down the wall of glam that I put on everyday and allow myself to be just that. Myself. By doing that, I also have to allow others in. Allow them to make fun of me, make me laugh, and help me rebuild my block pyramid.
I only hope that the pact we made to see each other in October, to continue to grow our relationship in whatever capacity, and to be honest and open with each other about everything will be everlasting. It won't be easy, and it won't happen overnight, but if we work on it one day at a time, our relationship will blossom to something even more amazing than it is now. I also made a pact to myself to try to do this with all my relationships. To just be me. And to remember that even though I will still wear my glitter powder, not all that glitters is gold. I'm going to have to mine a little deeper to get past the pyrite and to the real deal.
