Wanted
To be kind to all, to like many and love a few, to be needed and wanted by those we love, is certainly the nearest we can come to happiness.
Mary Stuart
I’ve been away the past few weeks holidaying in Scotland. On returning, I found there was nothing in the world quite like the warm hug of friends who were pleased to see me, who said ‘welcome home.’
There was nothing like being greeted by my barista with ‘where have you been?’
There was nothing like being caught by the waist and led back to the dance floor by folk who missed me at class and socials.
When I was tired, stretched and ready to come home, these were the little things that helped me know I’d arrived.
It felt like belonging. I was wanted.
It means more to me than people realise.
I was one of those weird, friendless kids. I spent many hours wandering alone around the playground or sitting quietly, writing stories. My imagination was a rich, colourful place.
It still is.
However, those powers of invisibility turned into a lifelong habit. I automatically exclude myself. In my head, I don’t count. I watch. I don’t belong.
Of course, I’m not actually invisible (which is why I don’t pick my nose in public) but it takes a lot of conscious effort sometimes to feel connected.
Dancing is great for this. It gets me out of my head, forces me to be social and every time someone holds out their hand for the next dance, I really appreciate it.
I love that simple act of invitation. It’s beautiful.
There’s a thrill in going where no-one knows you, talking and flirting with people who’ll never see you again. You can say and do whatever you want because it doesn’t matter.
But you know, it’s nice to matter too. It’s nice to come home. It’s nice to belong and to be where you are wanted.
Muchness 
Great post.
I know the feeling of automatically excluding yourself from things and events and sometimes I cannot explain it myself why I do while other times it may be a case of me seeing that another person may have a greater need.
I am a Watcher as well and I prefer to disappear into the background until I choose to venture into the open. I’m not there by default.
I hope that Samson saved the biggest purr for you upon your return 🙂
There are good things about being a watcher and bad things as well. I like taking a helicopter view. I like the sanity of it.
At the same time, all my best memories were made in the messy thick of it. Watching is not really living. Only living is living :p