For Pack

Last weekend was the second time our woodshop has vended at a big event, and absolutely exactly what was needed. Not for the money made, which was less than I anticipated, but for being surrounded by people I call home. Being a solo person by choice makes every human interaction quite interesting, and with an attendance of over five hundred people I was swamped and overwhelmed at times. I couldn’t take shelter in the arms of a lover, nor would I have wanted to. And yet this standing alone I’ve been doing isn’t truly standing alone after all. Being surrounded by those I call family, those I call pack, makes all the difference in the world. This weekend was truly a family reunion of sorts, as SPLF always is.

It’s interesting to have familial or familiar interactions with people and not have to worry about what they may expect from me later, or what they expect of me in the moment. Before I chose to remain solo for a few years I was generally always taking the expectations of society for granted, and just doing what I assumed was the norm. Just as when growing up, I knew that people got older, partnered up, had kids, grew older, and followed the “normal” relationship escalator. I didn’t know there could be any different way of living. And those I did know of who were alone or solo weren’t in that position by choice. All they wanted was to find someone to partner up with. It was expected. Finding their other half was hoped for and wished, and being alone was one of the worst states to be in. At least to my cis-normative very religious background and the people around me who supported that.

Even in the community I’m a part of now, finding a partner (or more than one) seems to be quite the focus for most of the people. Which is completely understandable, and I respect that. Humans are humans, no matter where or when they are. But one thing that struck me this weekend was that I can exist with those I consider family/pack without having other expectations from them. I’m me, and all I need to be, and no one is pawing at me with their energies for more. It’s unbelievably refreshing. Instead of using alcohol like I used to within the community to make my social anxieties ease, I’m just fully me, with lots of walls and boundaries, I’m Stone and immovable, and yet I’m loved and accepted exactly as I am.

It’s emotional to realize. I sit here choking on my decaf tea with tears steaming on my flaming cheeks, seeing through blurry eyes. Quite revelatory.

My entire adult life I’ve felt all of my interactions had to be somewhat transactional. I give, they take. I bend, I break, I serve, my body and what I could do with it was all that they cared about. Be it sexually, or from providing an income, or cooking dinner, waxing poetic, telling stories, running errands, doing chores, giving them my body and mind in exchange for the security of being accepted and loved and wanted. There was always something I had to give in exchange for something I needed from them.

But this existing for the sake of just being me, this realizing that I don’t want to give more than that and don’t have to, and still I’m loved and included…it’s something I’m still trying to wrap my mind around. For the first time in my life _I_ set the boundaries and hold them and don’t have to down drinks to allow someone to push past those walls. If I don’t want to open my doors and arms and legs I don’t have to. If I want to simply exist I can.

And I always could have…I just didn’t know it yet.

Speaking up for myself, sharing my opinion for the sake of it being valuable, those are the harder parts. Still getting used to those. Thing is though, I know deep inside that what I need and want isn’t unreasonable…and if anyone can’t handle my boundaries or opinions then they aren’t my people anyway. It’s OKAY to have boundaries. It’s necessary to honor them. For myself. Yet my natural people-pleasing, codependent, completely-too-empathetic-spirit still tries to temper each word I say and every thing that I do.

Which is why being alone has become so very precious to me. And also why the community I am a part of is invaluable. Consent is the most important, highly valued thing in this community and no longer do I have to push my sensitive spirit to belong.

For I DO belong. To myself. And that is the most important thing. No longer is it compulsory to be anything more than I am or do anything more than I truly want.

In the middle of this all…I’ve found my pack. My family. Those who love me just for being the smartass, lone leopard, neurodivergent person that I am. Those who will open their arms for me should I need it, but also give me the space to be the person I fully want to be. No pressure to mask, no pressure to give more than I’m willing, or to bend my Stone self to their desires.

Finally I’m coming to realize that they always were there, waiting…waiting for me to accept the person I truly am, for they already have.

I love you, my family. I love you, my pack. And most of all, I love me.