On Not Fitting In…And Being Okay With It

“You’re not a good ‘long-term’ fit.”

This was the reason for the immediate termination of my job’s contract last summer. My manager didn’t say this to me directly. In fact, she didn’t say anything but “See you on Monday.” And yet, those stinging words were waiting for me as I came home on a Friday evening.

Ouch.

Now, I knew the actual reason. It had to do with a contract negotiation handled in an unprofessional way, in which I gave myself a certain value she clearly didn’t agree with. Why didn’t she just say what I requested was out of budget? Why table the offer, spend the next two months ignoring me, cut off the friendly chat that I was familiar with for the past five months, and suddenly hyper-criticize my work (while providing no solution)? So yes, I suppose I didn’t fit in because I valued myself highly.

***

Not a good ‘long-term’ fit.

My ex-boyfriend may as well have said the same thing to me when we broke up two weeks prior to my job loss.

It didn’t take me long to realize why those words stung so fervently. I’ve never truly felt that I fit in anywhere. And these hurtful circumstances confirmed yet again my internal notion of “outsider.” I didn’t truly know what effects my past has had on me as an adult until my therapist mentioned it a few weeks ago. She knew I had a history of being bullied as a child.

2017 brought a back-to-back series of rejection with no closure. Very painful. As someone who has the gift of anxiety and over-analyzation, this has not been an easy or simple journey to navigate out of. Severe remorse and hyper self-criticism are symptoms of the anxious brain-type, even when things are not your fault. So let’s brush up on some past trauma…

Setting the Context: Childhood Bullying

My past hasn’t left me unscathed (I don’t know of anyone who hasn’t been, to some degree). I was bullied by almost every friend group I developed in my younger years. I was ostracized by my peers. It wasn’t physical bullying, but disturbing mental games that children with a not-yet-developed conscious play. Perhaps they saw me and twin sister as a threat.

I’d go to school one day, meeting up with my friends on the playground, only to be met with slanted eyes and a cold “Why are you following us?” Or worse yet, they’d send their older, intimidating brother to deliver the cruel message.

What embarrassing situation would I be met with today?, I’d think.

There was the time I was hanging out with a girl (who decided to be my friend that day), and the others called her over to whisper a rumor about me. Then they’d all laugh, and I’d be left alone to process what-the-heck-just-happened.

Or that one lunch (of many) I spent alone, tears dropping into the hot pocket I attempted to eat, where moments before I tried to open the locked library door (one of the girl’s mom was the librarian, so she had a special privilege to eat lunch with friends of her choosing in the library). My “friends” were hiding, peeking their heads behind the stacks of books and laughing at me. I specifically remember my twin sister’s sullen little face staring at me as she crouched next to the bullies, a glass door between us. She didn’t know how to respond. They decided she was part of the friend group that day, and I wasn’t. It’s interesting – people have tried to tear us apart for as long as I can remember, again, threatened by our bond.

I cringe as I recall the countless rumors spread, infiltrating my last year in public school. How’s a fourth grader to respond? My sister and I told our parents we wouldn’t go back for fifth grade. So we attended a charter school, where we could choose which peers to be with.

***

But school wasn’t the only place of exclusion. A few short years later in middle school, my church friends slowly pushed me out of the group. I’d receive phone calls from them – they’d all gather at one house, call me up and put me on speaker, giggling as they bragged about the fun they’re having without me. Or show me a whiteboard on which they wrote the names of all their friends, purposely leaving mine and my sister’s out. And many many more petty, yet intentionally hurtful instances. And let’s not forget the boys who called me the ugly duckling of the group.

You get the point.

My Response: Protecting Myself From Hurt

From then on, I strayed from friendships. I had acquaintances to play with, sure, but I never got too comfortable. I’d accepted my fate of never “fitting in” (or so I thought, more on that below). I had absolutely no trust in other people. If I wasn’t close to people, they couldn’t reject or abandon me. They’d have no chance.

The ability to “fit in” has been foreign to me all my life. Still is, as an adult. Sure, I can become part of this group or that, adhering to the “right” social skills that act as a ticket that grants me entry. I’m athletic, so I can relate to that group. I’m not afraid to make a fool of myself for humor’s sake, so people appreciate that. And I can carry on a conversation on just about every subject because I know how to converse well and ask the right questions (thanks, Journalism degree).

But I’m quirky. I admit it. Many, many people have commented on my having an “old soul.” I have to agree.

I remember laying in my bed at night as a 5-year-old, contemplating life after death or asking my mom, “What if God isn’t real? Then what?” Those existential questions not pondered by many my age. Maybe my anxiety contributed to that. In any case, I never cared about who’s dating who, and gossip doesn’t interest me the slightest. I mean, I was the weird 9-year-old educating high schoolers on the dangers of trans-fats and high-fructose corn syrup! My peers didn’t understand, nor care about such things.

I had and still have a difficult time relating to my peers completely. Perhaps because I was done playing mental games at age 14. Maybe even before that (and would-you-believe-it, adults still play these games?!).

What I’m Learning About Being an Outcast and “Fitting In”

Let’s go back to last summer. I had multiple rejections slap me in the face. Rejected by a job. Rejected by a person I loved. And there I was again. My adult cheeks stained with tears that once glistened on my outcasted 8-year-old face. Tears elicited, again, by a deep sense of not belonging and falling short.

What happens when we carry this fear of rejection? We conform ourselves to other people’s ideals. We squish ourselves into a box never meant for us. And once I faced all this rejection (Newsflash: if you go after things in life, it’s inevitable. But it means better plans are being set into motion ), the narrative of the past set in: I’m not good enough. I’m unlovable. I’ll never “fit in.”

Well, let me tell you something: the devil lies to us in our own voice. We have to declare our value found in the grace of God. I AM lovable. I AM good enough (better even!). But no, I’ll never fit in (in every way for everyone in every instance). And it’s okay. In fact… I like it that way. I will not dilute myself to blend in with standardness. Is it an easier path to trek? No way. But is it worth it? Hell yeah. Ultimately, the right people will appreciate you for who you genuinely are.

Understanding Patterns of the Past to Prevent Projection in the Present

(How’s that alliterative title? Ha.)

Letting go of the past doesn’t mean we forget about it. It can provide us a reference of why we act the way do in the present, understanding ourselves better, and therefore allowing a space of improvement…and grace. It’s a gentle reminder to listen to your intuition.

Here’s the thing about our past: even if we’ve “let go” of it, it hasn’t been erased from our brains. I mean, of course not. We’d be doomed to repeat it. We’d continue to miss the signs of hurtful people and allow them into our close circles again, giving them the opportunity to break us down without care. I’m not saying to ignore hurtful people; it’s possible to love from a distance and to be kind always.

***

So the past is there. Even if it’s not at the forefront of our minds, our beautifully complex machine of a brain stores data that we may never be conscious of. We may find ourselves operating out of this subconscious thought, which explains why we react to certain situations the way we do and respond from a place of past projection.

When I understand that I have wounds from childhood that make me ultra-sensitive to rejection and fear of being an outsider, I am able to zoom out and recognize when I’m reverting back to a child (emotionally-speaking).

I want to add another point: feelings are often fleeting. They’re not a solid gauge on anything. You can feel one way, and then some small instance or slight perspective change can completely shift your feeling. Don’t listen to that. It’s too flighty. But that deep gut feeling? That unwavering God-gifted intuition founded in wisdom, residing in your core? Listen to that. It’s protective in all the right ways and will help guide you away from toxic (read: insecure) people who want you to feel “otherly” and not part of a given group. Why do I say they’re insecure? Because if the target is on your back, it means it isn’t on theirs. And they know it.

Thoughts I’ll Leave You With

Ask yourself what lies you’re allowing the devil to speak into your life. And then shut him up, and declare truth. You’ll have to do it again and again. Keep at it. You are so valuable and necessary. And you’re uniquely YOU. Know this and own this.

And to thine own self be true.

Peace and love always,

smb