Aslaug's Axe Shed

As some of you know, when I lived in Nibe, I used to tell people that I had a social life. That I actually saw people, and truth be told, it was definitely improving towards the end. I did get out more, I did see more people and I did go to events once in a blue moon.

However, bottom line was … I didn’t have much of a social life. I guess I had to move to see it. Sure, I saw friends when we played roleplaying games, but that was a hobby we all shared and while I greatly enjoyed it … and still do … it was practically the only time I saw people with any regularity. My weekends were spent at home, playing computer games or roleplaying games. Going out for a drink was something I hadn’t done for years, quite literally. I did see Jane, Maria and Emil (hi guys, I miss you all) once every few months for a nice dinner, but that was really the extent of it.

Since coming to Dublin, I have had one weekend where I didn’t have something to do. Eventually, I’m sure I’ll WANT a weekend like that again, but at this time, I’m enjoying that I get invited to parties. People don’t automatically assume that I don’t want to come (which in turn makes them not bother to ask). Now, I get asked all the time.

“We’re throwing a party this Saturday, are you coming?”

“It’s my birthday this Friday, would you like to come by?”

“Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight?”

“Damned, I feel like a pint after work! Are you coming?”

It’s a genuinely great feeling. It truly is. And I intend to continue to make the most of it. But what keeps astonishing me, is the revelation of how incredibly repressed I have been these last years. I kept saying that I was fine … that living in a small town in Northern Jutland was no problem, and that I was having a good life. But in truth, the only good thing about it was the fact that I had friends who were on my side and backed me up. I have said this before, and I’ll likely repeat it ad nauseam over the years, but I should have gotten out of there YEARS a-bloody-go.

It is a little strange looking back on those years. I lived in Nibe longer than I have lived anywhere else. I met a lot of people. Some became friends … some not-so-much. Some became friends first, then later not-so-much. There are people in Nibe and Aalborg and that entire area that I do miss, and there are people I am very, very happy to have left behind. I won’t lie about that. There are people where I feel an actual, physical sense of relief at having moved this far away from them, and where the knowledge that I never have to see them again, and never have to have anything to do with them again, is a source of actual joy.

There is something bittersweet to this whole thing. Feeling better about myself, every day … and knowing I could possibly have achieved this years ago if I had made this decision when it first occurred to me as a possibility. On the other hand, I believe that the fates weave a thread for us and we have to follow it, and if that is the case, then this is the time when I was meant to come here. Meant to do this.

But catching myself in doing the strangest things … things I haven’t done for absolute YEARS …

Going out shopping for clothes and having a good time doing so. Wondering if I can find myself a pair of shoes that will both fit and look good at the same time, instead of simply buying trainers. Going out for a drink, and not feeling bad about it.

I know I have no one to blame for all this repression but myself, but as my father taught me … “Hold blame, guilt and the concept of sin in one hand, and a turd in the other, and then tell me what hand holds most substance”.

It’s his extremely off-colour way of saying “carpe diem” … live in the moment, seize the day, enjoy what you have and be unashamed of it.

I had to be 35 years old before I fully understood what he meant.

And by my account, my father is the wisest man I’m ever likely to meet.