We Choose Our Narrative

Who fits in? Or better yet, who actually believes they fit in? Only sociopaths try to fit in and accomplish this successfully, at peace with mimicry....the remaining 99% of us struggle internally, if not also externally, with deep feelings of inadequacies and haunting rejections.

I am someone who made not fitting in my identity. And not in a cool-gothic-punk princess-brilliant-entrepreneurial-“i’m going to market the shit out of this and who i am” way. But in a down in the dumps, pathetic, miserable, “I hate who I am because I don’t seem to fit in anywhere and I must make it known wherever I go” kind of way. Which sucks. Definitely go for the former if you are self aware enough to have a choice.

I have struggled with suicidal depression, body dysmorphia, eating disorders, low self esteem, extreme anxiety and much of the wondrous ways that make a human being complex, all my life. I hated myself so much it was like I was walking with a permanent kick me sign stuck to my back that I had placed there myself (and lied and pretended like someone else did it).

Not fitting in comes in so many different shapes and sizes. Maybe it was only for a select period of your life. Maybe you are still struggling to this day to find yourself and your tribe. Maybe your own family rejected you. Maybe you had to fight all your life to receive any kind of recognition, any kind of love.

I was told I wasn’t black enough.

Compared to my little sister.

Too emotional.

Boring.

Too sensitive.

I was a disappointment.

Made to feel stupid and my personal favourite: like my voice did not matter when I tried to connect and look like a human being. I can easily think of a handful of times where I would speak and people would pretend like I hadn’t said a word even when I repeated myself.

I was told I was different. I was made to feel so. I already felt this way.

And I internalized all of these things and used it as further fuel to hate and discard the parts of me that made me feel alive. I felt like trash and allowed my environment to dictate who I was, so I attracted the very things and people that would encourage and maintain these hateful feelings within me. I kept them around and stuck around because I was convinced that was all I deserved.

This past year my main focus, in the beginning, was healing my relationships with my immediate family. I moved back home with my mom and sisters, step brother and step father. I slept on the couch and did my best to integrate. Within four months my mother and my sisters were calling me selfish and threatening to kick me out of the house. Why? The simple answer would be that they felt that in me sleeping over at a friend’s house, I was putting myself at risk of contracting the covid virus which ultimately put them at risk.* The complex answer, what I truthfully feel the issue was: I couldn’t integrate successfully. My depression along with other family drama had kept me away for a number of years preceding this one and during that time my family continued to grow separate from me. It was honestly probably easier for them to just tick off the box that said black sheep and assign it to me rather than listen to my explanations of my mental illness and apologies over my own feelings of rejection by them. In turn, I can honestly say I made a valiant effort to reconnect, like I said I apologized for hurting them in any way, did my best to explain myself and was there to listen to their problems, rub tummies and backs, set up group nights with the family.. But and this is where I went wrong, I was also vocal about things that had happened in the family that wounded me and wanted conversations around healing these old wounds that they refused to participate in and meet me halfway on and quite frankly, were not ready for. They told me I was different. Rolled their eyes when I asked for love and told me plainly to get over myself, they all had their own problems. I made them uncomfortable with my honesty and it was easier to kick me out then let me into their lives which were just fine without me. I do not fit in their mold. Never have. And that’s ok.

I have spent 31 years now on this earth looking for myself, looking for my tribe. I was convinced that I was the problem. That there was something so profoundly wrong with me and it started with my brain.

I now realize that is the biggest lie I have ever told myself.

It is hard to feel empowered when the people around you, including the ones who look like you and are you by blood, won’t stand by you because quite simply, you being you makes them uncomfortable and forces them to think deeply about who they are themselves. No one wants to think! Especially not deeply about themselves. That’s scary af.

Bring on the pandemic.

I once told a therapist a few years back how I would love to not have to work for awhile, to just be granted the opportunity to stand still and deal with all the complex emotions swelling up inside of me, the emotions that made me feel overwhelmed, stuck and incapable. She dismissed the idea and seemed to think it was ridiculous and unnecessary.

I am sorry for the many lives that were rocked by this pandemic. The many lives that were lost..

For whatever reason I was one of the lucky ones spared during this time and was able to use this past year to do exactly what I had said years ago I wanted to do. Stand still. Sit with my complex emotions with a therapist (a different one this time) and without. I was able to use this time to delve more deeply into myself than I have ever done before.

I am in the process of mending bridges with my family though we’re still distant. I have actually lost friends as I realized some of the people closest to me relished in bringing me down rather than supporting me.

I am alone, now living in a different area away from everyone I have ever known (which is an area that speaks another language other than my own). Yet I have found my Spirit so to speak. I am finding God - or insert whatever word resonates best with you here - and in doing so, I am finding myself.

At the beginning of last year I had spoken to a therapist and written down for myself exactly what I wanted, and that was freedom. Freedom to exist and be in a way that was pleasurable to me.

I can’t say that this is a goal I have reached yet, but I am definitely on my way and active in my pursuit of this ideal. I now have the physical space, independence and mental clarity to begin the long work in creating myself.

I am a woman in search of her tribe who is also finding her peace being alone and lonely as I rediscover the things about me that once sparked joy (and find the courage to act on them..).

As I rediscover my own identity separate from the expectations and opinions of others.

It is my differences that led me here.

It is my differences that have helped me forge this path for myself.

My differences that have made me realize how alike we all really are, no matter the picture the external paints.

I may never find my place exactly in this lifetime, but I am certainly growing to appreciate the fullness and complexity of my own Spirit which I can only hope that through my own self acceptance can lend to the liberation and empowerment of other souls. Whether outwardly different or just secretly imposters.

My message to my younger, *other* self would be this:

Look inside you and nowhere else.

Howl at the moon.

Never stop scribbling in your notebooks.

Never stop learning and exploring and trying new things.

Look within and give thanks.

You are as God made you and who you are is a blessing.

Use your blessing and continue to give to the world.

Leave behind all those that don’t give back.

You will attract exactly what you need, no more no less.

Just keep shining your light.

It is the only way you can see the path in front of you.

*They already knew I had plans with that friend weeks in advance and knew exactly who that friend was and where I was going and chose to say nothing about it until I was about to come back home.