The Climb to Apex

As I sit at Mint Plaza, sipping my mineral water in my M. Jacobs peony dress I wonder to myself, “Where in the hell did the old Shellie go?” I’ve checked under the pillow and the bowels of my husband. I’ve stuck my head in the hot oven even the San Francisco sewage gutters. I’ve even ventured into the hellfire of my soul, but nothing! I’m a mom and a wife, but where did I go?

Circa 1998, life was stagnant. My “I could give a fuck” attitude was alive and boiling. I rented and was annoyed by roommates. I hung in limbo in a six year relationship with a man that did not believe in marriage. The sight of a homeless person abuzz with gnats, relieving herself on my doorstep with feces, did not phase me. My version of fine dining was an El Farlito burrito. I favored a stiff pint glass of low grade vodka and cranberry over a bottle of J. Lassalle, Cachet D’or. My encounter with fashion was the sewing room that wreaked of moth balls - a mess with fabric and vintage clothes from the mission thrift stores. Sunday mornings I escaped free from blackouts only to discover bruises from a fist fight the night before. My credit was flawless, but my bank account was as empty as my existence. I was nimble, but I was numb.

In lieu of cleansing my palate to happiness, I have executed friendships that were cruel, on the same rusty blade I have slaughtered friendships because of my own cruelty-- but that’s another entry. Ten years later, it’s midweek as I sit at Chez Papa in Mint Plaza having a leisurely lunch in my designer dress purchased at discount.

In the last ten years, the ruthless dragon -that has run rampant in my guts- has gone into hiding, for good reason. Sometimes, on days when my patience wears thin, I feel the hearth of it’s fire, but I silence it with the laughter of my son and the jest of my husband. On rare days for a breath of fresh air, I relinquish the beast in light intoxicated blurts. These days, I am happy. Content. I no longer run steadfast into walls, bashing my head in search for answers. I have nothing to prove, thus I have enough happiness to drive a self loathing loser to pack an AK and go on a murdering rampage. Although I detest mom groups and associate with normally positive people, my life is seasoned perfectly.

As new people enter my life, they will never have the fortune to meet the Shellie that found solace in body piercings, permanent ink, and conflict. Some people run from themselves all their life and escape to excuses like indulgences, vanity, a new city, job, and/or relationship. It's only human and I speak from experience. Yet beyond the exterior shell of my body, it is my fighting spirit and the loss of my pride that got me here. So here I am, both flawed and beautiful. I am me. Without the old Shellie, I would never be me today. I like me.

This is Shellie chasing her tail in the lost and found bin back to you Bob at the studio.