Standing on the Outside: A Reflection on Loneliness, Purpose, and the People We Choose

There’s a saying often attributed to Robin Williams.
“I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It’s not. The worst thing is to end up with people who make you feel alone”.

Lately I’ve been thinking about that. Not because I feel lonely. I don’t. Learning how to be alone is important. Being able to stand on your own feet without waiting for someone to rescue you matters.

But sometimes it feels like I live just outside the world most people seem comfortable in. Close enough to see it clearly. Far enough that I can’t fully step back into it. I say step back because it reminds me of something people often say about growth.

When you change, you leave behind the people you once walked with. But you haven’t yet reached the people who went through that transformation before you. You end up in between.

Most of my life revolves around work, craft, discipline, and responsibility. That gives me meaning, but it also creates distance. When people want to grab a beer or take a weekend trip, my mind is usually elsewhere. There are miles that need running. Knives that need forging. Training that needs sharpening before the next seminar.

Not everyone thinks that way. Not everyone has to.

This isn’t about right or wrong.
It’s about priorities.

And that’s where the gap opens.

Most of what I write comes out of a small number of demanding disciplines. Farriery. Forging and knife making. Martial arts. These are the places where I’ve spent the most time. Where mistakes cost you something. Where progress is slow. Where reality answers honestly. You can’t pretend your way through them. They force you to measure yourself, whether you want to or not.

Because of that, they shape how you see the world. They make you sensitive to patterns other people ignore.

When You Become the Problem Solver

I’ve noticed a pattern in my life. I tend to end up around people who are fighting their own battles. People who need stabilising in one way or another. I don’t say that arrogantly. I don’t have all the answers. I needed stabilising too. My past shaped me. I had to grow into someone who could hold himself together.

But when you’ve lived in chaos long enough, you learn to recognise it quickly.

When you walk through hell and come out standing, you develop a certain clarity. Not everyone likes that clarity. And if someone has never been through that kind of fire, I don’t blame them for not recognising it.

Some people live in the grey. That’s their choice. The grey is comfortable. But it’s also where you avoid measuring reality. You avoid measuring progress. It hides the failures that would otherwise force change.

Truth is truth.
Gravity doesn’t adjust itself to suit a perspective.

When you orient yourself toward truth, you start seeing the cost of choices before they land. You recognise avoidance. You recognise patterns. You see outcomes long before others feel them.

Sometimes that lets you help people. Other times it makes you the outsider who thinks too much.

The Difference Between Easy Happiness and Hard Won Peace

There’s a kind of happiness that comes from not thinking too deeply. If that works for someone, I’m not here to tear it down.

But there’s another kind. The kind you fight for. Fail for. Rebuild your life around. It’s quieter. It costs more. It demands responsibility. And the thing that pushes you toward it is universal.

Call it conscience.
Call it intuition.
Call it the voice that wakes you at three in the morning asking why you did something you already knew you shouldn’t have done.

It doesn’t speak to punish.
It speaks to guide/orientate you.

Ignoring it makes life harder, not easier.

Listening to it changes you. You start operating through a sharper lens. Not in a spiritual influencer sense. Just in a grounded way. Once that happens, you can’t go back to seeing the world the way you did before.

When you’re around people who haven’t fought those battles, the connection can feel thin. You don’t want to disrupt their peace. But you still have to stay honest with who you’ve become.

You’re not better.
Not worse.
Just different.

When Battle Mode Becomes Normal

Sometimes it feels like I missed a season of ease that others had. A stretch of simplicity and stability.

Instead, I moved from one battle to the next. Into the French Foreign Legion. Into rebuilding my life. Into courtrooms. Into farriery. Into starting again. Into the next challenge and the next climb. My nervous system learned that rhythm.

Survival first.
Purpose next.
Peace later, maybe.

So when life finally goes quiet, it feels wrong. When things are going well, part of me waits for the next impact. When no one needs saving, part of me feels unused.

It isn’t loneliness.
It’s momentum without a target.

Not Loneliness, But Asymmetry

Here’s what I’ve come to understand, especially after hearing others describe the same feeling while searching for their tribe.

You don’t need more people around you.
You need the right people around you.

People who carry weight without collapsing.
Who speak truth without fear.
Who work with their hands and their hearts.
Who live by principles, not impulses.
Who have been knocked down at least once.
Who understand silence.
Who know what it means to rebuild.

Real peers.
Not projects.
Not rescues.
Not anchors for someone else’s chaos.

Just people walking in the same direction, at roughly the same pace, for their own reasons.

Why This Matters for Forge and Farrier

If you follow Forge and Farrier, you’ll see the message is simple.

Hard work.
Hot iron.
Honest grit.

This blog is part of that honesty. Forge and Farrier isn’t just about shoes, steel, and sweat. It’s about the internal forging process. The shaping of a person.

In the forge, iron changes under pressure and heat.
So do people.
So did I.

Part of that forging is recognising when your life is shifting direction, even if the world around you hasn’t caught up yet.

A Closing Thought

I’m not chasing solitude. I’m not running from people. I’m not chasing fame or notoriety either. I’m just trying to live a life built on something real. Something earned, not imagined. Wherever that leads, God only knows.

If you feel like you’re standing slightly outside too, it doesn’t mean something is wrong with you.

It may just mean you’re in a different season.
A harder one.
A more meaningful one.

Sometimes the path toward a good life starts alone. Not because you are alone, but because you’re becoming someone who can recognise the right company when it finally arrives.