In order to recover from yet another self extraction from my pseudo relationship (standard only in its sickness and adherence to every rule of advanced co-dependancy), I decided to socialise.
When I’m at home, I am normally a hermit. My life revolves around my part time job, writing, creating art and occasionally meeting a friend for a drink.
Socialising is saved for times of necessary ‘switching on’ when I am travelling and have exhibitions, am doing presentations or talking to customers at work.
Over the years my friends have become accustomed to my insular ways, lack of telephone skills and preference for relating one to one rather than in a more populous environ.
I’d been invited to a Yule party and as I was reeling from another self esteem crushing exchange with the man I refuse to allow to be my nemesis, I thought it was time to surround myself with people I care about who are genuine and life enhancing friends.
So I went out after work on a Friday night and had a fantastic time. As always, everyone else had their wine and I had my soup bowl of strong coffee. However I didn’t feel a need to draw on all my resources and switch on the high octane and very draining ‘persona’
I chatted to people I hadn’t seen in way too long, revelled in being surrounded by interesting, intelligent and very real people, and remembered what healthy positive relationships were all about.
No games, no control, just acceptance and reprocity.
There was the occasional odd moment when the conversation covered new look hearing aids, retirement coping mechanisms, post cancer recoveries and such like and you realise how quickly time has passed and we are suddenly all so much older, but the realisation brought no trauma… just an easy awareness.
I left before midnight when dancing was starting as I was working all weekend and needed to wake early.
On the bus in the final part of my journey home, I realised I’d left my keys at the party.
I have this long ingrained habit, when in social situations, of ‘scattering’.
I put bag and coat in one place, phone in another, jewellery (which I tend to shed as the evening progresses) in yet another, and so on.
I obviously had scattered thoroughly that evening and neglected to gather up properly afterwards.
Thus early Saturday morning saw me sitting in the rain and dark on my balcony for several hours until a taxi was able to drop off my keys for me.
In a dilapidated state at work the next morning, I was telling a colleague about my mis-adventures and she said well, the lesson is obviously no parties on a work night.
I thought about this and decided that the real lesson is never leave the party before you’ve danced.