An old school friend of mine got in touch to say he’d be in the area, and asked if I’d like to come camping overnight by a lake with a bunch of “wake-boarders.” I jumped at the chance for a few reasons:
- I hadn’t seen my mate for a good ten years, and it was about time we met up and shared what’s been going on
- I have recently felt ready to venture back into the world of sociability
- I needed to get outdoors, and this sounded like the perfect excuse
I won’t go into too much detail, but I will say this:
- I spent an hour on a speedboat watching my mate and a couple of others wake-board, which looks like great fun.
- I drank an amount of beer and cider appropriate to the situation, I smoked a little weed, and had only my third ever experience of ecstasy.
- I met a wonderful group of people, partook in real conversations about real events and, I think, made some real friends.
- I was welcomed, accepted and integrated into a lovely group of hippies and space cadets with open arms.
- I talked to girls... real girls... and felt that thing, y'know... lust? Is it lust? Desire! That's the cookie.
- I may have finally mastered the art of moderation
I was offered a lot of alcohol, and even more chemicals, but I actively turned most of it down and kept myself at a very reasonable level - not once did I feel “out of control”. This is very unusual for me – I’ve never had much of a thing for chemicals but I used to have a hunger for weed, although much less so over the last eighteen months since it started messing with my head. I’ve been known to drink myself into oblivion, not knowing where to stop and ending up making a fool of myself or, worse, upsetting someone I care about. I’m not saying I’ve definitely achieved moderation nirvana, but I’ve definitely made massive steps towards it, and feel proud of myself for that fact. - I feel mostly like myself again
For years, I’ve felt like someone else, like I’d changed into a person I’d never seen coming. The relatively carefree, optimistic teenager I’d been grew-up into a sad, drunken, belligerent cynic with no motivation and zero social life. I managed to alienate the vast majority of my friends by turning into someone else. It was bad, you can tell.
Now, I feel like I've found myself again. Last weekend I was totally and utterly Me - relaxed, happy, sociable, funny, clever and up for a laugh. Modest, I know, but I have to be these days, and must constantly remind myself who I am and who I want to be - I'm pretty good company now and I want the world to know it. - I am worthy
The people I talked to were interested, amused and entertained by me, and me by them. They listened, they talked and we… well… conversed. This sounds so simple and everyday, but to me it’s a discovery. I’ve felt for so long that my words aren’t valuable; my thoughts don’t deserve to be heard, that I’m not worthy. But being accepted into this group and so fluidly becoming part of a conversation with complete strangers says a lot, both about the chilledoutness of the group and my new-found confidence and self-esteem. Being unquestioningly welcomed by a group of thirty people is a like a kiss from a delightful girl – it says as much about me as it does about them. - I think I finally consider myself back on the market
Both as far as relationships go, and work. I think I fell off the relationship market about ten years ago, but I definitely feel better about myself, which was my main prerequisite for becoming available again. As for work, I suddenly have some motivation to try and break out on my own, and try something I've always wanted to do. This restoration of self-belief didn't just happen last weekend - it's been building for a while, but a lot of conversations on Saturday night opened my eyes to the possibilities, both for companionship and entrepreneurship, and cemented the knowledge that if I want something enough, and try hard enough, I can just possibly attain it.
*holds award, adjusts tie*
I'd like to thank myself and my counsellor, but a big thankyou must go to the people I spent the weekend with, without whom I'd just have been me. I am, however, more "me" than I've been for years.
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