When I was growing up, we had this tradition at home that, whenever we were all under the same roof, we would sit at the table together, and have food together. My parents were very adamant about it. One of us wanted to eat while watching TV? Tough. I can still hear my dad saying that family time together is important, and we should use these opportunities to spend time with each other. Oh, and no distractions either. There were no smartphones at the time, but handheld video game consoles, magazines, any distractions were barred from the table. It was food and talk to each other.
This tradition continued all the way into my 20's, although less and less, as my parents didn't always live with us. When Yogi and I moved in together, he showed me very early on that this was also important for him. He had a similar tradition with his family, so it was a somewhat seamless transition for both of us.
Having this ritual proved especially tricky, but equally necessary, when I started flying - with my working schedule all over the place, the few weekends I was at home meant us having breakfast together, at the table, and no distractions. We've never been the lunch kind of people, and dinners have always been a moving target. But breakfast was consistent - well, as consistent as they could be within a cabin crew's schedule.
This tradition remains to this day, even though I don't fly anymore. Every single weekend, Saturdays and Sundays, if we are both home, we have breakfast together. Just like with my biological family, only this time with my chosen family. Yogi is the first person I considered my chosen family, but he is certainly the one who's been the closest to my biological one. He will never be a biological relative - 1: it would be very weird if he were, and 2: I will leave you to fill in the blanks with jokes about his DNA inside of me - but I am pretty sure he is my permanent chosen family. That won't change, regardless of whatever happens to us in the future. But this is not always the case with chosen families, and separation from those we choose to love, used to scare me. Now, I think I see it through a different perspective.
I've always heard that one of the best things about being a grown up is that we can choose our family. I've been lucky with my bio family - we are very different people, no doubt about that - but we love each other and we support each other, in our own way. When it comes to my chosen family, I think it's a mix of luck and making good choices. Because luck alone is something that's entirely beyond my control, and saying that choosing the right people is pure luck would somehow take away the effort I put into it, and the value of my choices. But I digress.
It's not all praises, though. When it comes to the people I choose to call friends, I have also made mistakes. I left people in, showed them my deepest and most vulnerable parts, only to see those same pieces later become smashed into pieces by those same people. It sucked at the time, but once the wound closes, the cuts heal, the pain stops and the scars form, lessons can be learnt from it. Yes, I will probably still make mistakes in the future, but that's part of the path. I'd rather still let people in - although that's much easier said than done. When I put on the scale, it's still better to risk it, even if that means a part of it might not end up being great. With me, that so far has been a small part. And maybe that bit is luck.
Now here is yet another angle, one that I have only realised recently: chosen families are not forever, even if the choices of people are perfect. There is no forever with friends, which is the opposite of a bio family. I knew this for a while, but it wasn't until a few weeks back that I stopped to think about how this can be a positive thing. All it took was some food on the table, and some friends eating together.
Picture this: Five people sitting at the table, talking loudly whilst serving food and laughing. It was a wholesome moment, even though it was also a simple one. From the perspective of an outsider, there was nothing special happening. No big gesture. No shocking announcement. No occasion worth celebrating. Only a few friends, having a nice time together. Right there and then I saw my chosen family into the roles that would normally be occupied by my biological one. Only this time, Yogi and I were the parents, the other three, two boys and a girl, they were me and my siblings. And I understood, there and then what my parents felt when we would all sit together to eat, and why they enforced this tradition so strictly.
This moment was fleeting, it hasn’t happened again - at least not in the same way - and I wonder if it ever will. The stars will likely never align as they did that day. But instead of feeling sad and longing for repetition, I understood at that very moment that roles can be flexible within a chosen family, and this is awesome! I don’t need to be the mother of my friends all the time, because biologically I am not. This is a role I choose to have, not one I have been forced into by nature. When you stop and think about it, the implications are huge! One day I might need a chosen mother, and they could easily step into that role for me, the same way I stepped into the role for them. Maybe not easily, as personalities usually guide what roles a person will normally take, but at least the idea that it can happen is comforting to me. And even if that role wouldn’t come easily to some of those friends, I like to believe that they would try their best to fulfil it, should I need them to.
A year from now, these people might not ever be in the same room again. But now, at this moment in my life, they are. They are there for me and I am there for them. Yes, it is a bit scary to consider a future where they are not, and I'll circle back to that, but that potential future, if it happens, is not here yet. There is no need for me to live it now, and there might not even be the need for me to ever live it. If it does arise, I will deal with it then.
I have written about the network, how I am lucky enough to have it around me, and how I can activate it whenever things are not well. Now I can add another dimension to it: it is ever changing, it never stays the same, and that’s ok. People come, people go, but ultimately the moments and the memories are what will matter. Under this new light, the network is not so much a group of certain people, but a group of people I can count on, even if those member change occasionally.
Some people are not part of the network anymore, for a wide variety of reasons. Although I would not be able - or want - to count on them anymore, they were there for me when I needed them, and I was there for them. We helped each other, and if we got here, it’s also due to those moments. They are forever part of our history, and I am thankful for them. I am thankful for the people who were once in my life, even if they are not anymore. And I am including here the ones who crashed out of it in a catastrophic way. That doesn’t erase what good they have done to me. Without them and those moments we shared together, I would not be the person I am now. They were once my family, and that will never change.
But people coming and going can also be a downside of the whole choosing your family concept. For one, it is really hard to say goodbye to someone, even when we know that it is necessary for us to part ways. I have written many many times about this, so I don’t need to go into it again. Maybe a less explored side of this downside is the lack of consistency, which is particularly scary when I think about the future. It gets harder and harder to make new friends, the older one becomes. Add to that the trauma of losing a friend, again even if this is a conscious decision, and the whole process gets really difficult to repeat. Not to mention that going through it over and over again can bring about a level of cynicism and detachment, possibly resulting in weaker, less deeper connections.
And I miss deep connections, but most importantly, I miss having a group of friends who know each other for years, who meet regularly - even though that regularity might mean only once a year. I see people who are part of these kinds of groups, and I feel a bit jealous. People who are still in touch with those they grew up with, for example. I can't help but feel a bit of longing. I hear stories of a particular group of friends who travel every summer together, and I wish I had that. I don’t know if I would like it, if I had it, but the idea appeals to me.
And then there’s the fear that I am too old to create that. That I missed my opportunity. Don’t get me wrong, I had other great opportunities in life, so I am not saying that I got here with nothing to show. I also have lifelong friends, friends I know will always be my chosen family, but they are scattered around the world. And perhaps the biggest thing about them is that I am the link, the thing they have in common. They are not friends with each other, so a group thing would probably not be in the cards.
I have tried to build a group of friends before, and at times I came close to building something in that direction. But it didn’t work out in the end, we've all been scattered around. Now I don’t know if I could do it again. Both in the sense that I don’t know if I have the energy and the capability, and that I don’t know if anyone who wants to be friends with me would be interested in being part of a group.
Maybe I should consider a different approach: one where the group starts together, from scratch, instead of trying to bring my current friends together to one group. Maybe I could start a book club with strangers, where we share a common interest and get to know each other at the same time? I don’t know. I don’t have the answer, and that’s also something that scares me. In a way, the unexpected scares me. I like to be in control, and I definitely like to make safe bets. But then again, the life choices that brought me to a third country and a third career were those involving risk and jumping into the unknown, so what do I know?
I am open to ideas, and I am open to friends, if any of you is willing to apply. Please bear in mind that you won’t be replacing any of my current friends, and that this might not be forever. But I like to think that I am a good friend, that our lives will be better for having each other in them, and that we have a blank canvas to draw on. And this is the kind of unknown I can get onboard with.
Panis et Circenses - Os Mutantes
…and definitely An der schönen blauen Donau Op. 314 - Johann Strauss II, which incidentally is how Panis et Circenses ends
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