Being Other; a self-indulgent tale

Relaxing on a soft couch shortly after a very Christmassy meal I suddenly feel the need to post about what I’m feeling now and what I think that might mean.

We’re off in the country, near Canterbury, for a weekend with a whole bunch of people in our wider group of acquaintances. Some people decided they wanted to treat it like Christmas – which i’m fully in favor of! – so I’ve just finished stuffing my face with, well, stuffing and other similarly-Christmassy things. Dessert – Christmas pudding included – to come later, I certainly can’t complain much!

I’m very appreciative of the friends we have, and of the people we hang out with, because generally they’re an awesome group. I do find myself sometimes, though, like at times like this, struggling to associate with or care much about these other people. It’s a little odd – or maybe normal, who knows! – but when hanging out with a whole lot of other people I find myself appreciating Erin, and the awesomeness that we have, even more, while simultaneously almost discarding an entire swathe of people from my immediate cares.

I don’t mean anything disparaging by that. I just feel no desire to connect, or hang out, or converse, or whatever. Happy to just “be”, and happy for other people to just “be” but somewhere other than I am!

I’m happy to accept that there’s something different about me, but I’m past the point where I’m prepared to feel guilty about those feelings. Clearly it’s who I am and changing that is a whole other kettle of fish. In this respect, at least, I’ve learned to accept if not embrace who I am, even when it may not be entirely socially acceptable. But always interesting to think about, if nothing else.

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