I get along pretty well with my new coworkers (thank goodness!). We share an open office with our three cubbies along the same wall and the office is seldom quiet. Mostly we’re talking shop, getting info to the right person in the right moment, but usually once a day there’s something that gets us giggling. It’s a fun environment, our office.
But the other day I realized my cubbie neighbor (I know they’re called cubicles, but that’s so boring, cubbies is friendlier) and I had something in common: our baby nails.
If you’ve ever been around an infant you may know that their fingernails are tiny little razor blades attached to flailing limbs. It’s why baby mittens are a thing, keeping them from flaying themselves alive as they figure out that whole fine motor skills concept. Usually nails get thicker and less prone to flayage as we grow up. Mine didn’t. Mine are still very thin and still fully capable of leaving scrapes and gashes from random contact with my thin, scar-prone skin.
They also reject just about every nail treatment out there, a fact of which I’m absolutely convinced but feel a little silly saying, because it sounds so strange even to my own ears. Acrylics lift, gel and shellac manicures chip within 3 days, nail wraps leave the nail bed even thinner–like I just soaked off acrylics–and regular polish? Forget it! I’m lucky if I can go 8 hours without a chip (and that’s when I do them before bed). And yet, I like my nails to look pretty, so occasionally I’ll get on a polish kick.
But my cubbie neighbor? She experiences the same thing. She confirms my crazy.
Which got me to thinking about the rest of my close friends: do we all confirm each other’s crazy in some way or another?
The touch-point may not always be as simple to identify as the above example, I’m fairly certain my closest companions do confirm some level of my existence not to be so out there.
And why is that a good, necessary thing?
Well, most of us want to feel special or unique in some way but the truth is, that there’s a fine line between special and special.Â Between acceptable and not. Between quirky and scary. Most of us don’t want to be scary. Even those of us who want so desperately to be unique still want to be accepted at the same time. We’re human, it’s natural.
So when we find someone out there who echos one of those fringe traits, we get a reassurance that we’re still within the acceptable limit. We’re still lovable, if still weird. And it’s those people we are grateful for and to and tend to strike up friendships with, whenever possible.
All the time I thought
There’s only me
Crazy in a way
That no one else could be
I would have given everything I own
If someone would have said you’re not alone
See, he knows!
So, how do your friends confirm your crazy? Have you ever thought about it?