Monday, May 11, 2020

Ain't Nobody Got Time for That



I can't imagine how I ended up reading this old blog post during this pandemic, when I have all but taken myself off of social media for just the reasons listed below, but here we are.  I don't remember writing this, but I am super familiar with having these thoughts every day of my social media-based life!  Whatever you do, you MUST watch Sweet Brown video! I recently handled down my coveted "Ain't Nobody Got Time For That" T-Shirt to my eldest.  Enjoy!

Reposted form April 6, 2013

Everyone needs an outlet for their frustration.  While some find it in healthy avenues like exercise or sport, venting to friends, family, therapists, or strangers, or purging their belongings, others tend to cleanse their angst in negative ways, such as taking it out on the bottle or in drugs, or by over- or under-eating.  Some folks neutrally address their irritation by writing hateful letters or emails that they never send, or expell their aggravation via creativity, be it art, song, dance or what have you.   

And then there’s the Facebook folks.

You know who you are.  You’re the Wendy Whiners of the social media age.  Anything that could go wrong or negatively affect you or the people you love, DOES.  Life is always kicking you in the ass and you can never catch a break.  If it’s not the car dealership screwing you over, it’s the big boss at work trying to make you look stupid.  You always get cut off in traffic, left off the delivery route for your new purchase, and your local utility company has a picture of you on their #1 Enemy photo page.  If anyone's going to get shorted a burger in the drive-through window, it's gonna be you.  The world is out to get you one fucking annoying day at a time.

And you’re out to document your plight, one fucking miserable post at a time.

I know you too.  You are my friends, family, and neighbors.  You’re people I don’t know and sometimes I’m you as well.  Some of us ride the wah, wah, wah train infrequently, but make a big production when we do, as it’s just like riding a bike….you never forget how to do it.  Others of us live permanently in poor me-ville, like an old-school country western song where your dog dies, your truck is repossessed, your wife leaves you and you’re arrested all just in the refrain. 

Do you ever wonder how you got to this place?  This shitty, horrible juncture where the school’s sole agenda is to screw with your kids:

FB Post:  Does anybody know why the school keeps doing X, Y, and Z?
74 Comments and 43 Likes

And the city’s got your number now, 'cause they keep issuing you parking tickets:
FB Post:  Can you believe I got a ticket today for arriving back at the car less than 2 minutes after my meter expires?
22 Comments and 15 Likes

And let’s don’t forget Facebook itself and its quest to steal every ounce of privacy (Catch 22) that you own:
FB Post:  If you don’t want FB to steal your pictures and identity, like they did mine, make sure to change your settings to X, Y, and Z.
57 Comments, 56 of which are asking you how to walk them through step by step of making the changes, and 44 likes.  

We all know misery loves company, which has to be why people feel the need to post and commiserate with such negative comments instead of actually doing something about the supposed injustices of the world.  I’m here to tell you:  Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That!   

Before you hit that POST button, or jump on the bandwagon and comment on someone else’s bullshit complaint, check yourself.  Everything you put out there on Facebook can come back to haunt you.  Friends, family, acquaintances, prospective employers, schools, and people you don’t even know are out there reading what you write.  And they remember that junk.  You’ll be much better served by a run around the block, a quick bitch session to a friend, or even to stuff your face with a ding-dong (oh woe is me, they don’t make those anymore!)

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Memories Suffice

Stacy Says It - Memories Suffice - Stacy Snyder
Shutterfly regularly sends me emails with the memo ‘Your memories from this week 11 years ago.’ It pulls me in every time. If I uploaded photos to Shutterfly, it meant I was documenting our lives of joy.  

I don’t know why I've made so many photo books over the past decades. Maybe it’s my version of scrapbooking, or new photo albums since no one really prints photos anymore, or possibly I just wanted to record life in anticipation of one day not being able to remember it.

Whatever the case, I’m so glad I did!

On Mother’s Day, I am reminded of the love I have always felt for my girls with these pictures. As if it was yesterday, I remember the attachment I felt to my youngest since the day she was born. I had lost 2 pregnancies before her birth and was so thankful for her existence that I was never going to let her go. I found the joy in her every action. The losses actually helped me become a better mother to both girls by cementing my appreciation for life.   

Stacy Says It - Memories Suffice - Stacy Snyder
I’m taken back to the little mother role my eldest grasped and still wears with pride to my youngest. She took on not only the responsibility of protector to her little sissy, but also that of a teacher of love and friendship. They fight and carry on like all siblings, but when asked, they each site each as their best friend. To this day they play together and hold one another’s attention for hours on end. 

The pictures call to light the gusto we all naturally feel as children and a lucky few of us carry on into adulthood. The way my youngest is attacking that banana is the way I feel about my life: I just want to get to it, taste it, and digest it! It’s also the way I’ve prided myself on teaching my girls to live their own lives on their terms. On a recent road trip, my eldest told me she described my parenting style to her friends as a fictitious scene from The Lion King, where Mufasa holds his baby cub high above the lions below as an introduction, then drops the baby Simba into the pack to fin for itself and learn the ways of the world. I took that as a compliment.
Stacy Says It - Memories Suffice - Stacy Snyder
These memories give me faith that even when I’m at opposition with another or when life’s valleys seem deeper than the peaks, love has always existed within me. I got it from my mom who got it from hers, and in turn I pass it on to anyone that will take it! Love permeates into the world through my relationships with others. It shines in my connection with my kids and it amoebas out through their external relationships. It holds a place marker for family and friends I can’t actually touch, and it serves as a beginning point for every new person I meet. It always comes back to me tenfold, but it often avoids the beaten path and shows up in unexpected bearers. 

Thank you Shuttferfly for such an important visual reminder of my gifts on Mother’s Day!

Sunday, January 19, 2020

About a Boy

About a Boy - Stacy Snyder - StacySaysIt
Jordan Catalano of My So Called Life
I grew up in a time where whenever a young woman was crying, having a meltdown, or experiencing an upset, the first responders to the scene usually asked, “Is it about a boy?” when trying to get to the meat of the issue.

It’s usually always about a boy. But in the end the issue is never really about that boy...it’s always about you.

My “boy” was a 47-year-old man that to me looked like a fresh-faced teenage boyfriend with all the incredible, yet detrimental charms of the same.   He had the wonder of a child, the flirtatiousness of a confident, yet not too cocky guy, and big bushy eyebrows that enhanced his intent gaze; he had a slightly balding head and the tiredness factor of a middle-aged dude, a penchant toward things that interested him alone, and a beautiful full mouth that spoke only the truth. 

Society at large might say too much truth, but for me it was the golden ticket. You see my boy experienced much trauma as a child, not unlike many of us. His feelings of being unloved, a bother, not cared for as a young person....changed him….affected him.....made him who he is today.  But unlike many of us, this boy chose to address his past and change his learned behaviors in order to alter his life path so he doesn’t inflict that repeat trauma on to the rest of the world. That means being honest with himself and others, taking the time and space he needs for himself, not taking on too much responsibility that makes him feel anxious, and living his life in the moment.

I don’t know how long he’s been a man-boy. From what he’s told me he lived more like a college kid well into his adulthood and maybe just recently found his groove; logically, he’s probably still freshman in his groove at the present.  All I know is that my attraction to his magnanimity was so strong because of his vulnerability about his setbacks and the way he lives his life because of them. He holds no true convention toward wealth or status.  He reserves priority for creative outlets and self-care, and follows the beat of his own drum in regards to living a life that caters to his wants and needs. He made me feel whole, alive, and excited to be me, as many of those life views overlap with my own. He practiced no judgement, appraisal, nor pick up lines. He showed sincerity, intrigue, focused attention, and wasn’t shy about showing me all of himself.....even the parts that some would call ugly, and allowing me to follow suit. I felt like I had met the male counterpart to my feministic humanity. 

Despite my very specific approach to dating, which had served me well over the past few months, crafted from the idea that I wasn’t ready for anything too intense or difficult after the recent end to my marriage, I felt myself being drawn to this boy.  Common sense told me my time with him was limited, as I had sensed early on, and he confirmed in kind, that it was hard for him to make lasting romantic relationships.  I boldly forged ahead, though, as I had promised myself that I would allow myself to feel all the emotions involved in the vulnerability of dating, as without the lows you can’t fully realize the highs.  

The more he unapologetically spoke of his fear of culpability, his imperfections, and his perceived lack of need for human connection, the harder I fell.  His openness allowed me to feel acknowledged, appreciated, and celebrated in his presence, without ever second-guessing the authenticity of the connection.  I was starved to be seen through a 1:1 lense, as my self-image had been distorted over the course of my nearly-20-year relationship.  While I had wrestled to hold on to my identity as an individual throughout the normal wear and tear of kids, marriage, and stay-at-home momdom, my then-wife had struggled conversely with self-honestly, only looking at herself in the way she wanted to be seen, as opposed to the way she actually lived and felt.  Without a shared trust, we were unable to grow together as a couple in our marriage; I felt trapped in a life I couldn’t control.  

This boy’s truth was the exact anecdote I needed to confirm that there is another way to live!  That same truth was pin that pricked my balloon.  A few months into the relationship, the boy started to plan his annual “wintering” escape out of Chicago, which involves renting his apartment out for a few months, planning a warm destination trip to visit friends across the US, and bypassing the worst the winter has to offer here.  His trip was not a surprise;  in fact it’s what initially drew me toward him, as having the ability to pick up and go and follow one’s desires at a moment’s notice is a fantasy of mine, and I was in awe of someone who could do it!  The whammy came in the form of his straight-forward answer to the question, “so what will we do while you’re gone for the next few months?”  He looked at me like I had mis-spoken.

“What do you mean?” he asked.  “We won’t be able to really date as I’ll be gone, and our communication will be much less.”

Not what I was thinking at all.

“What were you envisioning?” he asked, as tears welled up in my eyes.

“I don’t know, talk on the phone and text and maybe I could visit one or two of those warm places and we could see each other for a weekend here and there.”

Blank stare.

“When I leave town, I tend to roll on the ‘out of sight out of mind’ mentality.  Maybe we could start back up when I get back,” he suggested mildly.

Beat down by my own wants.

Crushed I tell you!  I wasn’t in love or thinking the relationship was anything more than it was - casual - but I was so in the moment, and enamored with the stark contrast of living in the reality of every situation that I forgot about the tolls of such.  After further conversation, it because clear that we were in very different places in our prioritizing the relationship as I held an attachment to him that he did not have for me, all of which he was able to clearly state without having justification, as he’d been nothing but upfront all along.  Intellectually, I understood it all.  But it grazed on a lifelong hot button of insecurity - the idea of not being important enough to matter to someone.

I didn’t matter enough for someone I’d been dating for a few months to keep in contact with me for 5 minutes a day while he’s out of town.  I didn’t matter enough to my ex-wife to learn to be honest with herself and me in order to work out the specifics of a double-decade marriage.  I didn’t matter enough for my decade-old neighborhood friends to deal with their discomfort in order to stay in contact with me after my divorce.  I didn’t matter enough for my dad to put his wants aside in order to be a good father when I was a child.  Finally, and most importantly, I didn’t matter enough to take care of myself in the way I needed to be cared for over the years.

I’ve been grieving for the last week.  I’m sad over the sting of truth, as well as needing to cut ties with someone that I truly adore in lieu of caring for myself.  But mostly I’m aching over those wounds of insecurity in my life that are yet to be fully healed. 

Dr. Phil always says, “Winners deal with the truth.”  

While I hate the word ‘winner’ as it invokes the image of a “loser” on the other side, I do agree with the concept.  Without truth, we can’t move forward.  We are trapped.  

This boy helped me move forward.  I appreciate the growth and am thankful for the honesty, despite the nip.  It allows me to make educated decisions, armed with a fistful of knowledge.  My brief relationship with him taught me that I have to care for myself as if I’m important enough, or no one else will, as we all simply follow suit to what we’re shown and fed.  I look forward to living my life in this fashion moving forward.

It was never about a boy.  It was always about me.