friends

It wouldn’t be the first time that someone mentioned to me that I walked my own path. In fact, if I were to really think about it, it would be something someone says to me at least once a month for what feels like a lifetime. It is so common to hear, that for the short time I had Tinder, I had Fleetwood Mac’s – Go your own way listed as my anthem.

It’s been said by my friends; it’s been said by my family members; it’s be said by co-workers; it’s been said by strangers that don’t even know me. If everyone is saying it, then it must be true, no? And so it isn’t until now that I stop to really reflect on what it means, and why it might be something to which I relate, or not.

I recently had a guest staying with me where this topic came up. Walking our own paths of course refers to our path of life, and how some people might be following a predestined path, or whether they tread down a path less trodden or more personal. This thus may remind you, dear reader, of the concept of the sheep and how they follow the masses. I think it’s fair to say that the majority of people, for the majority of their lives follow. There may be moments in their life where they go astray, but the flow is strong.

And so it makes me think about the trailblazing nature of my own life, and how most decisions in my life have caused me diverge from the masses and walk my own path down my roads, and through the empty forests. It can be a very lonely journey, I admit, but when we feel it’s right in our hearts it must be something we do, no? It wasn’t until recently that I started to consider this to not be something positive. If our heart is telling us to do something or to follow something, we are taught we should follow it. As a very intuitive person, this resonates for me. And yet, a conflict emerges.

Those that walk their own paths will undoubtedly compare the experience as if we are forging a path through deep snow. Each step is slower, and it’s unclear where the end is, as our vision is blinded. But we forge onward, trusting, and hoping that our journey brings us to a destination that we want and that is worthy of us. And yet, is this really the truth?

As I was trying to explain to someone that it’s okay to walk their own path, a dark thought kept coming up as I was giving advice. Is it really something that I should be recommending to someone? Do I really want to lead people down this path, knowing, that it often ends up being a painful and lonely road? Do these people have the mental and emotional fortitude to be able to manage this and the swings and twists and turns that happen? I used to think so, but this sinking feeling arose in my gut that perhaps it wasn’t such a good thing to recommend.

Perhaps we think it’s good to follow our hearts and go down our own paths, but when we reflect upon where we end up, we look back in retrospect in order to asses if we were right. Without realising I was doing it, subconsciously I was making that evaluation and posed myself these questions: Where am I? Where did these paths lead me? Is this right for me? Would I be happier or better off if I followed the other paths?

While these questions, technically, should be rhetorical I couldn’t help answering them myself. I’m sitting in an empty apartment in a town where I only have acquaintances. Career wise I’ve managed to scrape something together and find (relative) stability, but am I really living? Posing this question might suggest I think the contrary.

So why do we do it? Why do we recommend it? Why do we encourage and prise people that do it? Why do we guide other people down the same paths and encourage them, even with the best of intentions, despite the sinking feeling that perhaps it’s not for everyone, or even that it’s perhaps not done me well? That must be the sinking feeling I have been feeling lately, and when speaking to someone about it I felt such a hesitation.

And so it brings me back to that anthem by the classic Fleetwood Mac. I guess the message, purpose, or meaning of song really rings more true than originally thought. Lost forever shall I be, forging onwards deeper into the depths of the lost forest.

Or maybe I should just get more into orientering, and bring the lostness to real fruition.

So what happens when a giraffe walks into a bar with a group of friends adorned in glitter, angel wings, and a wedding dress covered in blood? I guess you just had to be there…

I took a trip back to my previous home, Eskilstuna, for a Halloween party. To my own surprise I had a lot of motivation to actually be in costume and do something. It helps that my friends actually asked me out. As I pondered for days over what I could be, I reflected on my past costumes and how they have always been so innocent and not death-related.

I was a bunny, a clown, an M&M, a dark faerie, a light faerie, North Star, Peter Pan, among other things. So needless to say when I was looking through online costumes the first few things that popped out to me were turtle, giraffe, and hippo. All so cute. I chose to be tall and proud.

So this photo actually was taken by a friend of mine that works at the Ywon Bar & Grill because, well other than the fact that were were the few people there, it was surreal. A drink in a mans hand while he stands more than 190cm tall thanks to heels and a double head, clothed in a onesie is bound to draw attention. It’s proof that I was social and actually connected to someone (rare as it may be).

And there he stood, for at least 1,5 to 2 hours talking to a stranger that was sitting at the bar. It was my friends that pushed me into this situation so I just went along with it. Drinks were shared, informal and personal topics discussed and the whole time I was thinking, “why did my friend push me onto this guy?” I mean he was a 39-year-old punk loving hipster with non-matching socks. Totally not someone to whom I would normally find myself talking, let alone with whom I would be flirting.

It didn’t actually occur to me that my behaviour or his behaviour would have be considered flirting, and given my clueless history of people hitting on me, in retrospect I wonder. He did offer me a drink and shared his own with me. He did continue the conversation and asked questions. It didn’t even think about flirtation until he made a comment about a ring on my finger and asked if I was married. I remembered stopping, looking at him and formulating an answer. And even after that, I still had my doubts. Everyone that knows me, knows that I would never make a move. It seemed safe, but there is always some obliviousness that prevents me.

We joined the group after a long time and he bought everyone a round. It was very generous and I was definitely feeling warm fuzzies, despite the sinking feeling and my doubts about his intentions or interest. And then a casual comment was dropped, and I thought “AHA I knew it!” and I felt vindicated that I was right. We all departed and he even asked me for a hug and mentioned how genuinely good of a time he had. It made me smile and I drunkenly stumbled out the bar.

Between the double cab rides and walking through town, not much of me being a giraffe was noticed or said until the evening ended. We walked down the bar street and suddenly drunk adults approached us. One harassed me, then started crying because she felt bad. A guy named Andreas felt the need to talk to me about how he can tell if people are gay by the shape of their eyes (I think he was too drunk to notice that I had huge heels on).

My friend departed and I walked down the street, fearing for my life, as my previous lone-walking home experiences in Eskilstuna resulted in being chased, harassed, or otherwise accosted in some way. But instead I was complimented by women and men alike. Even two women approached me for a photo and wanted a hug to say I was so fabulous. Their costumes were lame, like wearing bunny ears and a slutty dress lame.

And so I got back to my hotel, laid down and hoped to sleep and awake to have a delicious breakfast. Even after all that happened I still think back and wonder… What if I had said something, or did something, or did I come off as a frozen cold bitch that I feel I am? The jury is out, but at least I had fun.

I make up words, especially when I’m trying to describe something that I don’t think has an actual word in which to use. English is flexible, so I take full advantage of it at every opportunity that I can.

There was a time in the recent past where I was discussing intimacy and the different facets of it. In this conversation, a phenomenon was brought up that intrigued me and made me reflect upon my own experiences. My friend was describing how when two people are falling asleep or cuddling together, they find that their heartbeats and breathing patterns begin to synchronize. This act, according to my friend, is what creates a level of intimacy that helps bring people together.

I agreed with my friend in principle, but when it comes to stuff like this, I tend to have a different experience to demonstrate that it’s not always the case. And so the short story begins. It was a dark and cold night in the past, and upon falling asleep with someone that I was quite fond of, I noticed this breathing and heartbeat experience. Though what I notice was contrary to my friend’s assertion; my body was actually actively working against the natural synchronizing of breath and heartbeat despite me wanting it to work.

It raises a question: why would this happen to nearly everyone in the human race, but not me? Well then it just reminds me that I am one of the 0.000001% of the human population who share the similar emotional and (semi)physical needs. It ends up being more of an affirmation of what I believe I’m about, and how I’m not like others, not on the same page, not even on the same planet.

While revelations like this can be very important to self-development, it’s also a very sombre discovery. To know that your body and soul, despite what you want, actively works against you is a very solemn concept. It just demonstrates more that it’s not a choice, or a decision, or a fault in the human makeup, it’s part of what nature has created. It makes a person feel more distant, unconventional, and incompatible with the other 99.9999999% of the human population.

I guess the question remains, in what other ways can a person be dissynchronous with its kin?

I was made aware of something very poignant lately. Over the last few days I’ve been walking around looking for Pokémon, and I’ve noticed the number of walkers, drivers, and people doing things in groups. It doesn’t ever seem to be alone. Most people might not notice this, but I picked up on it very quickly.

Then I hung out with a group of friends of mine and it became painfully obvious how alone can be in a group of people. People gravitate towards their partners or their besties, and I’m left to feel like I don’t belong.

To further amplify this, what happens when you start looking through your Facebook photos to find that the vast majority of the photos are of things or oneself, but not with other people?

And to take it one step further, when you look at your life and how you’ve shaped it, and how it seems inconceivable to be able to integrate someone else into you life because you’ve set it up so much to be the best suited for being alone.

I guess this calls for an appropriate hashtag #ForeverAlone

I often reflect upon this in my times of retrospection and observation of humans that walk the Earth. Some people are very physical with others, and some are very un-physical with other sand sometimes this can be cultural or geographic based, or really any other variable.

Over the course of my life, I have attempted to be more “friendly” and made honest attempts at being “physical” with friends on an appropriate level. This includes hugs, high fives, pats on the shoulders, etc. Pretty much basic stuff that can’t be much construed by anything else. But I got myself thinking…

What is the limit of appropriateness?

Is it dependant on gender-gender contact? Is it based on societal norms, or it is individually based? Is something appropriate with one, not appropriate with others, and under what circumstances?

Millions of queries could be written about this topic, but really as usual it all relates back to me. I find myself in a situation, for quite some time now, with a squishie. If you don’t know what that is, look it up. I’m aware that there are limits to relationships, I am fairly certain that it’s not going anywhere for obvious incompatibilities. And yet I find myself now second-guessing myself.

I have experienced a change in actions towards me that seems to be manifested by something else, or it could be just normal behaviour that I hadn’t noticed before. I find myself exiting the confines of my ice tower and frigid bitchdom to accept the things that are, and try not to make a fuss about it – until it becomes confusing.

And so the question remains, what is physically appropriate between friends, acquaintances, or other platonically based relationships? Is this all just natural, or are there underlining factors at play here between us? Did they get wind of my squish, and now treat me differently and to feel better about them-self? Or am I really off base with this one and it’s something more? Confusing to say the least, and while a conversation would clear it all up, I’m content with the status quo.

For the next 3 weeks I need something to wake up to, the possibility of seeing people that I am excited to see, not knowing if I will or not. I need that distraction in order to survive the final steps of my programme – but at what cost will it leave me? Will I return to the “emotionally damaged” status, or just move on, or be tormented by this for the rest of my life? Only time will tell.

And so in conclusion, what the hell is socially acceptable? I don’t think there is a definition, but I’m confused beyond belief!