When You Don't Belong

I’ve always, always, desperately craved belonging. The earliest, most vivid memory of wanting to be part of a group was when I moved from Louisiana to Maryland. I was probably around seven or eight, but I can’t be sure. It was a big move for a little girl. I don’t remember begrudging it, but I do recall wanting to fit in at my new school.

I joined musical groups and sports teams, invited friends over for sleepovers, talked essentially non-stop, and carefully considered what clothing and conversation would be acceptable in this new, foreign, northerly land.

I did pretty good, I think. I found friends. A lot of little girls liked me. Accepted. Belonging.

Then I moved again. In high school. The journey started over. This time, it was more difficult to weave my way in because groups had already been formed. Slotting into friendships that had been cemented for years became a matter of finding any crack or crevice I could slip my hand into to grasp acceptance.

I never rose to join the ranks of ‘inherited’ popularity, but I tried by filling my paper planner with never-ending social events and extracurricular activities. I felt confident that I was acceptable to most, but felt I had to work hard to keep it up. If I missed out on any opportunity, I’d be in danger of losing my place.

Fast forward to now. I’m 33 and still, I yearn (and I don’t use that term flippantly) for acceptance, for belonging.

The problem now I am finding is that acceptance isn’t won in the same way as it used to be when I was a child. It no longer feels like a beauty, talent, or personality contest to be worked on and won. Instead, I feel like you either belong, or you don’t. Simple as that.  

We live in a town in Wales where family lineage and history runs deep. Parents next door. Friends from primary school down the road. That colleague I worked with twenty years ago for a coffee. The doctor who saw me when I was a kid at the supermarket. It’s that kind of town.

I do love it, I honestly do, but it isn’t the easiest place to find your ‘tribe’. I have some of the loveliest, most of best friends, but still, even at my age, I crave belonging to a group of people, in addition to individual friendships. And time and time again, I’m reminded that it just isn’t within my grasp.

It doesn’t help my cause that I work from home, cutting out chances for workplace belonging. No banter about the boss. Complaining about the work. Work parties at the pub.

Why does it matter just so much – belonging?

Philosophically, Abraham Maslow said belongingness is part of our major needs that motivate human behaviour. By having it, we feel like we are part of something bigger and more important than ourselves. Agreed.

In his book, the Happiness Hypothesis, Jonathan Haidt calls social belonging “vital engagement.” A web of friendships and a sense of community that makes you feel connected. Agreed.

Jeanine Stewart, a consultant with the Neuroleadership Institute said in an interview: Being surrounded by other human beings doesn’t guarantee a sense of belonging. Belonging actually has to do with identification as a member of a group and the higher quality interactions which come from that. It’s the interactions over time which are supportive of us as full, authentic human beings.”

Also agreed. Agree. Agree.

People find it in religion, in clubs, in work, in hobbies.

But what if, even in those, belonging is still not felt? Is it the unsatiable craving that will never be met? Something hoped for, but not seen?

Make an effort. You have.

Be patient. You have.

Remain open. You have.

What then?

I felt it recently, after a kids club I attended (for my kids). I’ve tried everything to be accepted – attended all the events, been kind, asked questions, kept quiet, spoken up – and still, the feeling of ‘otherness’ is palpable. Maybe it is all inside my head - I don’t think it is - but maybe, it is.

How did I respond?

Well, I threw my hands up (not actually, but I felt like it) and went to sit alone and flick on Instagram. Healthy right?

As I’ve reflected on it today, what I can do, other than throw a tantrum, is create a sense of belonging for others. There are other outliers like me. Others who just don’t fit in, for whatever reason. They need a home. They need a community. They need a sense of belonging.

Instead of focusing on how I don’t, and may never, fit into a social circle here, I can make others feel like they belong in my circle.

Basically, I’m creating a social club and if you’re kind, you can join.