One of us

I am drinking “Windex”
I found the recipe in the Ruby Ann Boxcar books for trailer park entertaining, Windex is a mixture of 4 types of booze, something blue (that I can’t ever pronounce), and 7-Up.
I am drinking it as I like the colour – a light sky blue that reminds me of Key West and cheerful times. It has taken me forty years to get around to making “the evening cocktail”. My father crudely calls this ‘having a snort’.

This weekend was spent doing something other than doing the usual droll weekend errands. We went to the Bears of the West weekend festival. I persuaded Someone that it could be a way to meet new people of similar ilk. I volunteered ourselves to drive the van shuttle between the bars, and man the hospitality room at the hotel. It allowed me to ‘be part of it’ but fulfill a need to keep busy/do something (more accurate; to be slightly apart and see it).

Overall it was pleasant. I have not been to one of these events. I had all sorts of visions of what it would be like. Turns out it was just a bunch of men having a party. We got to see the Frank Lloyd Wright School in Scottsdale, and the Desert Botanical Gardens. We met people. I shook hands with a celebrity. We drove a van between 3 bars until 2:30in the morning.

But did I fit in? I was one of the thinner ones. While I am attracted to bearded lumberjack types, I am not large enough to be a real ‘bear’. Sporting whiskers and donning a suitable cap and T-shirt can’t cover up the fact I am skinny.

So - while I am a card carrying member of the BOTW (full paid membership and several volunteer jobs to boot) I sense I crashed a party. It raises the ongoing issue - I want to belong. I want a clan to whom I can point and say “I am part of them” and – more important – they point to me and say ‘gooble, gooble one of us’. It is a common need, found in all; the desire to be part of a clan of similar others.

After 40 years I have not quite found this ‘group’. There is always some quirk or exception that makes me not quite like the rest. One of the greatest experiences I had in Michigan was attending a group of men; all counselors, with whom I processed cases and shared personal matters. There were 8 of them; all social workers - and I the psychiatrist. I need to be clear; they never ever made me feel apart. It was an inner voice that said “sorry, you are not quite like the others”.

And then there is the other part of me, that doesn’t want to be like the rest; who wants to be me/unique and stand apart.

These two needs; to belong and to be different, move in conflict throughout my life.