Long hugs and the long haul
Folks.
I’ve been OUT-out.
This time two weeks ago, I was at The Happy Startup School’s Summercamp.
Three days outdoors at Frickley Lake, East Sussex.
Surrounded by 150 purpose-led leaders, solopreneurs, and founders.
Attending talks, eating delicious food, having wonderful conversations, and attending my friends’ workshops:
Matthew Bellringer on how to identify and advocate for your needs when you’re neurodivergent (you know that thing where you give loads of reasons for your request? That’s reflexive self-justification!)
Gillian Caughey on how to look at your finances when you’re waking up with the 3am scaries (top tip; what advice would you give a friend? I bet it’s a lot kinder than “stop buying takeaway coffees”.)
Saskia de Feitjer on how to start with Bullet Journalling (she’s a certified trainer, and attending her session gave me a ton of “ah-ha!” moments, as I’ve tried to BuJo with limited success for years!)
Plus getting lots of very long hugs.
So many long hugs.
All the while, looking like this*:
Because, even though my level of immune suppression isn’t as severe as others, my chance of developing Long Covid is statistically higher than average.
And, sheesh, guys, due to chronic fatigue syndrome, I’ve spent enough time in bed feeling crappy over the last 18 years.
While I received nothing but acceptance from everyone (and a wide berth and an apology from anyone who was coughing), it felt a little weird at times to be so visibly the odd-one-out.
In a way, I guess I’m used to it. I’m half Chinese, and I was the only child of ethnicity for the majority of my school years.
Before Covid, when I used to go out to events, I was the only person using a walking stick or in a wheelchair.
Even for day-to-day activities like going shopping, I was usually the youngest person using a walking stick.
So perhaps my past makes it slightly easier for me to be different amongst others.
And, of course, at Summercamp, I was in a privileged situation. This was a tiny gathering of folks united by the common values of kindness, learning, purpose, and friendship.
Everyone single one had been vetted by Carlos and Laurence, the founders of The Happy Startup School, to ensure that they weren’t a dick.
Plus, at the risk of sounding braggy AF, there was a key difference between attending this year and two years ago.
Last time I knew people. This time, people knew ME.
And, knowing about how rarely I go out, a couple were genuinely excited and amazed to see me physically in person.
(The benefits of being a community host who does a ton of hosting online, folks.)
The volunteer team, many of whom are friends or acquaintances, regularly checked if I was okay and worked with the amazing Ren’s Kitchen to ensure that I had somewhere safe and separate to dine with a friend each evening.
Plus, I had two friends happy to mask up and take me to and from the event, both from my home and daily from the Airbnb I rented nearby.
I feel incredibly lucky to receive such support and accommodations. And, at the same time, I wonder how long I’ll need to keep masking and how much harder others may find it to do so.
Apparently there’s a new variant on the rise, which is inevitable, given how few of us are taking precautions or have had recent vaccinations. As I prefer to meet outside, it’s unlikely that I’ll see many people in person over the next few months as the weather worsens.
I know all about the negative impact of chronic loneliness on one’s physical, mental, and emotional health.
And yet, for some reason, I’m feeling okay about the prospect.
I have regular opportunities to connect and contribute, albeit digitally and remotely.
I have things to study and explore.
I have a home that’s dry and warm.
I’m facing the last quarter of the year with projects I hope to accomplish and new hobbies to explore (candlemaking, I’m looking at you).
My lifestyle isn’t for everyone, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
But I’ll hygge the hell out of it over the next six months.
And when the chill comes not from a lack of blankets but a lack of hugs, I'll take myself back to that field in East Sussex.
And hope that the memory will keep me warm.
*Actually, for the most part, I wore what I’ve dubbed my “festival Hazmat suit” - this gorgeous Digi Spring Camo Rain Poncho from Rainkiss. I got SO many compliments!
