Last night, I did something. Something big. Something huge. Something sweaty and down right naughty. Socially taboo!
I UN-blocked all the people I had blocked on Facebook.
I UN-blocked all the people I had blocked on Facebook.
God save the Queen, right?! Tell me about it.
Set Scene:
A hotel room off a busy Indiana freeway. Me; alone, on bed, boredeom sets in, forcing me to aimlessly surf through old photos and quotes and I began deleting or rearranging them as I saw fit. I’ve been on Facebook (Or “Da Book” as I now shall call it), long enough to have many pictures and thoughts I posted years ago no longer define my standing or the resemblence of who I am any longer. This idle looks-y into the past eventually brought me to the security division of Da Book, and I found myself bringing up my blocked list.
For those of you in the know, you KNOW, you know? Now for those of you somehow reading a blog, but you don’t have Da Book, I shall fill you in. When you get blocked by someone on Da Book, you have a range of emotions. Ohhh!! The emotions!
A hotel room off a busy Indiana freeway. Me; alone, on bed, boredeom sets in, forcing me to aimlessly surf through old photos and quotes and I began deleting or rearranging them as I saw fit. I’ve been on Facebook (Or “Da Book” as I now shall call it), long enough to have many pictures and thoughts I posted years ago no longer define my standing or the resemblence of who I am any longer. This idle looks-y into the past eventually brought me to the security division of Da Book, and I found myself bringing up my blocked list.
For those of you in the know, you KNOW, you know? Now for those of you somehow reading a blog, but you don’t have Da Book, I shall fill you in. When you get blocked by someone on Da Book, you have a range of emotions. Ohhh!! The emotions!
Did she get off Da Book? (“Genuine Concern”)
I see he’s still in a relationship with her. (“Stumped Confusion”)
Did she unfriend me?! (“Shockingly questioning”)
Did she unfriend me?! (“Shockingly questioning”)
DID SHE BLOCK ME?! (“Denial”)
THAT BITCH! (“Outrage!”)
WTF!? (“Demanding an Answer from the gods of Da Book” see also “Whyyyyy!?”)
WTF!? (“Demanding an Answer from the gods of Da Book” see also “Whyyyyy!?”)
I never liked her that much anyway. (“Reason”)
Pfffft. I hope they’re happy with each other. (“Settlement”)
He’s too good for her. (“Can’t ever have too much Reasoning.”)
You get the idea here. It’s a bad feeling. Someone was your friend on a social networking sight, given glimpses into your daily life, your fun times with family, read your notes and your surveys and your takes on life, followed along with your educational and career triumpfs, and voted on whether or not you should get high lights or low lights at your next cut. They approved of your duck lips when no one else would. There was poking involved. They “liked” you, for God’s sake! Now, they don’t even want to be your friend.
It is the new school version of “na na na na boo boo - you’re not my friend anymore!”
It’s a little bit devastating to be honest.
But!! The tables can turn. When YOU block someone!!?? OOOhhhhh, the glory of a block on Da Book!! Am I right or am I right? The surge of power as your mouse arrow hovers over the “Are you sure?” question, somehow making it all the more final in your head. Yes. YES! I am sure. I think I’m sure. What if I’m not sure? What if they notice and then get angry and then stop me at the grocery store to throw frozen peas at me like little steeled gun pellets?! I must tho. Yes I am sure. I shall block this peon because of their weird posts/stalking/lookstheygiveme/trust issues etc. Thou talked too much shit about thy and now, BE GONE!
It’s as easy as that, and it is an empowering feeling.
When I got divorced, I blocked everyone that stopped me on the street to point a finger at me. These were people I had known all my life. I blocked his family. I blocked some of our friends. And I had good reasons to; they all had opinions I didn’t want to hear. *sticks tongue out*
The opinions expressed on the streets of God’s Country USA are sometimes hard to swallow. Some say they are traditional values; some say they are close-minded. The ones said to your face are tough; the ones you hear spoken behind your back, devastating. No one’s made of stone. I am no exception. So, yeah, it hurt when his sister called me a bad mother. It bent my vision of love when he called me a cunt (Footnote; when he told me I ruined his life, I took it as my personal invititation to stop ruining such a perfect obvious specimen of man. I filed.) It blew to hear friends say I was making a mistake by leaving him because I couldn’t do any better. It was scary when the 2 drunk friends showed up in the middle of the night because they wanted to “talk”. It really was kinda shitty for his cousin to come over and try to force himself on me since I was now “single”. I didn’t appreciate the breaking in, forcing me to change locks, or the letters in the mail about my children, or having to go to the police department and start the investigation procedures, so I blocked the persons who did it. Some of our friends were all of a sudden not OUR friends; they were his and his alone, and they were going to make darn sure I understood where the lines were drawn in the sand and what my expectations if life were to be.
So I blocked them. They all had different reasons. And let me tell you, I went on a mothereffing blocking spree! It felt so good. Like get tipsy for the first time kinda good, the room spinning just enough to make you tell funnier jokes but not the pukey spins yet. Freeing, and for a moment, I was a better dancer but that had more to do with the sexy allure of a new young boyfriend who took me out (IE another blog someday). For a while, my blocking fueled their despise for me. In a small town, talk is cheap, but rumors and gossip are sought after with 24 karat gold value. As I began to openly date a younger man who I ended up marrying later, there were times we were followed (blocked ‘em). There were local establishments when people felt the need to separate us, presumeably to do more talking (blocked ‘em). Tires were slashed (blocked ‘em). No matter what happened, it all traced back to about a core of 20 people. So I blocked ‘em. Blocked ‘em all.
.........
There was many a time where I pondered to my inner most self, “Self. Where the fuck am I?” Lots in life didn’t make sense and while I knew it all would pan out one day, waiting for “that” day was sometimes excruciating. Almost 4 years have passed now. I’ve moved on. I’m remarried. Finally feeling refocused, in career and love and life. I realize I am not the latest fodder for local whore-lore, and while delightedly happy about that, I know it did give me an interesting insight to what it’s like to be on that end of the social branding iron. I highly recommend it.
So I guess as if I’ve moved on, so have they. One can only hope. So last night, I unblocked them. One at a time. Slowly at first with smart trepidation. Then, regaining some kind of strength within me, I watched out of body as I was unblocking them all. Do you know why? It just doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter! They don’t matter, and my need to react to them most certainly doesn’t pertain to life at all anymore. Just like those old pictures of me, the people who hate me or wishes me bad luck, who think I did him wrong, they don’t represent my concern any more. Just like an old post I’ve made, it’s content is not necessarily my belief any longer. I’ve grown, older and up, and whether they have or not, doesn’t reflect on me. I know now that if someone showed up at my door, I’d more than likely shoot them in a foot before I let them come in and pin me down. If they still want to talk after that, maybe I’d listen, but we’d do it on my terms and I’d decide when and if they get bandages to slow the bleeding, damnit.
Their concern is no longer of mine.
A best friend once told me, “you’ll be the talk of the town, until one day, you’re not.” and he was right. But in the meantime, I did what I had to do. I blocked on Da Book and felt no shame in it. Tonight, I unblocked the bad experiances and bad attitudes from another era in my life to prove to myself they. don’t. matter to my existance any longer.
You get the idea here. It’s a bad feeling. Someone was your friend on a social networking sight, given glimpses into your daily life, your fun times with family, read your notes and your surveys and your takes on life, followed along with your educational and career triumpfs, and voted on whether or not you should get high lights or low lights at your next cut. They approved of your duck lips when no one else would. There was poking involved. They “liked” you, for God’s sake! Now, they don’t even want to be your friend.
It is the new school version of “na na na na boo boo - you’re not my friend anymore!”
It’s a little bit devastating to be honest.
But!! The tables can turn. When YOU block someone!!?? OOOhhhhh, the glory of a block on Da Book!! Am I right or am I right? The surge of power as your mouse arrow hovers over the “Are you sure?” question, somehow making it all the more final in your head. Yes. YES! I am sure. I think I’m sure. What if I’m not sure? What if they notice and then get angry and then stop me at the grocery store to throw frozen peas at me like little steeled gun pellets?! I must tho. Yes I am sure. I shall block this peon because of their weird posts/stalking/lookstheygiveme/trust issues etc. Thou talked too much shit about thy and now, BE GONE!
It’s as easy as that, and it is an empowering feeling.
When I got divorced, I blocked everyone that stopped me on the street to point a finger at me. These were people I had known all my life. I blocked his family. I blocked some of our friends. And I had good reasons to; they all had opinions I didn’t want to hear. *sticks tongue out*
The opinions expressed on the streets of God’s Country USA are sometimes hard to swallow. Some say they are traditional values; some say they are close-minded. The ones said to your face are tough; the ones you hear spoken behind your back, devastating. No one’s made of stone. I am no exception. So, yeah, it hurt when his sister called me a bad mother. It bent my vision of love when he called me a cunt (Footnote; when he told me I ruined his life, I took it as my personal invititation to stop ruining such a perfect obvious specimen of man. I filed.) It blew to hear friends say I was making a mistake by leaving him because I couldn’t do any better. It was scary when the 2 drunk friends showed up in the middle of the night because they wanted to “talk”. It really was kinda shitty for his cousin to come over and try to force himself on me since I was now “single”. I didn’t appreciate the breaking in, forcing me to change locks, or the letters in the mail about my children, or having to go to the police department and start the investigation procedures, so I blocked the persons who did it. Some of our friends were all of a sudden not OUR friends; they were his and his alone, and they were going to make darn sure I understood where the lines were drawn in the sand and what my expectations if life were to be.
So I blocked them. They all had different reasons. And let me tell you, I went on a mothereffing blocking spree! It felt so good. Like get tipsy for the first time kinda good, the room spinning just enough to make you tell funnier jokes but not the pukey spins yet. Freeing, and for a moment, I was a better dancer but that had more to do with the sexy allure of a new young boyfriend who took me out (IE another blog someday). For a while, my blocking fueled their despise for me. In a small town, talk is cheap, but rumors and gossip are sought after with 24 karat gold value. As I began to openly date a younger man who I ended up marrying later, there were times we were followed (blocked ‘em). There were local establishments when people felt the need to separate us, presumeably to do more talking (blocked ‘em). Tires were slashed (blocked ‘em). No matter what happened, it all traced back to about a core of 20 people. So I blocked ‘em. Blocked ‘em all.
.........
There was many a time where I pondered to my inner most self, “Self. Where the fuck am I?” Lots in life didn’t make sense and while I knew it all would pan out one day, waiting for “that” day was sometimes excruciating. Almost 4 years have passed now. I’ve moved on. I’m remarried. Finally feeling refocused, in career and love and life. I realize I am not the latest fodder for local whore-lore, and while delightedly happy about that, I know it did give me an interesting insight to what it’s like to be on that end of the social branding iron. I highly recommend it.
So I guess as if I’ve moved on, so have they. One can only hope. So last night, I unblocked them. One at a time. Slowly at first with smart trepidation. Then, regaining some kind of strength within me, I watched out of body as I was unblocking them all. Do you know why? It just doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter! They don’t matter, and my need to react to them most certainly doesn’t pertain to life at all anymore. Just like those old pictures of me, the people who hate me or wishes me bad luck, who think I did him wrong, they don’t represent my concern any more. Just like an old post I’ve made, it’s content is not necessarily my belief any longer. I’ve grown, older and up, and whether they have or not, doesn’t reflect on me. I know now that if someone showed up at my door, I’d more than likely shoot them in a foot before I let them come in and pin me down. If they still want to talk after that, maybe I’d listen, but we’d do it on my terms and I’d decide when and if they get bandages to slow the bleeding, damnit.
Their concern is no longer of mine.
A best friend once told me, “you’ll be the talk of the town, until one day, you’re not.” and he was right. But in the meantime, I did what I had to do. I blocked on Da Book and felt no shame in it. Tonight, I unblocked the bad experiances and bad attitudes from another era in my life to prove to myself they. don’t. matter to my existance any longer.
I don’t have to talk to them in real life. I don’t have to like them. I don’t have to forget the things that were done against me, or said to me. Chances are, I never will. But that’s okay. At the time, through tears and gutteral sobs, it all seemed so unfair. Saying it aloud now, I realize that it hasn’t been for quite some time, so I’m unblocking with an open heart. A hidden loaded gun is in there somewhere too, but definitely an open heart. Because I again, know where the fuck I am.
“Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain.”
~R.G. Lee
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