What are the rules? I often wonder because I know I don’t know the rules. It seems everyone plays by a different set of rules. I know they are different from mine. Others seem to expect me to know their rules. I never expect others to know mine. Do I have any? Do they matter? After all, I won’t get mad at others if their rules are weird. But they might get mad at me … or just weirded out. 

I avoid others because I don’t know their rules. And I don’t want to suffer the consequences of not knowing them. Mostly, that would be embarrassment, I suppose. If I were in the world more, if I interacted with more people on a daily basis over a really long period of time, maybe I’d know … or be able to guess what is expected, what is welcomed, what is taboo.

I especially worry sometimes that other headmates, especially our littles, who have less self-consciousness, might commit a social faux pas. What then? Although, I was relieved when Mabel said our caseworker had pretty handwriting and she didn’t seem to think that was weird. Or when she thought our caseworker ate carrots because she has red hair. I was endeared by a child’s logic – after I felt a slight wince. But only a very slight wince. After all, even though she’s a child trapped in this old male body, she’s still quite endearing and ultra-adorable.

But what about with others – people who aren’t paid to talk to me? How might they react? I suspect it would be different. Perhaps I’m over cautious. Maybe I need to just relax and let it be okay be us. Somehow, I have to wonder if the majority of advocates for being oneself consider just what that would mean for us. We are not one self. We are dozens! Sure, for some of us it might be pretty easy. Well, for many of us it would be easy. 

And… it might also seem quite strange from the outside, especially since their expressions are likely to seem so different from the expected persona. This contast is pretty much always on my mind when out in public. I am ever conscious of how others might see me. And I’m especially concerned that I don’t appear to behave or think or talk in a manner inconsistent with my appearance. The problem with that is that so few of us actually identify with or rather, correspond with, our physical appearance. 

I quite literally don’t know how to act the way I look. Or maybe I’m just afraid that I will forget to act somewhat that way. Thank goodness at least a couple of us do, I think. Or so it seems. But that means so few of us truly get to BE and authentically express ourselves outwardly. It would be very different most of the time. Different voice. Different mannerisms. Different priorities. Different interests. Hmm.

Maybe one day, by some miracle or magic, we can learn to shapeshift so that all of us get opportunities to express congruently. That would be amazing! Until then, I will dream and hope and wish to meet compatible folks so that any of us can have a chance to express authentically as occasions and opportunities warrant.

Zephyr System
Zephyr’s Cosmos