My parents celebrated fifty years of marriage at a lovely lakeside restaurant in July of 2003. Every July, the memory of their anniversary celebration, and their sudden deaths within months of that celebration, comes to mind. It is as though all these years later, those events live within the cells of my body. And when I reflect on the anniversary celebration, it triggers my recollection of a family photo taken during the event. In the photo are my parents and two siblings. My father looks proper in dark dress pants and a button down white dress shirt. My mother and sisters look elegant in beautiful black dresses. And in the middle of the frame is me. I am wearing a cream dress with a soft sheer overlay that has flowers reminiscent of a Monet painting. It makes me think of a Sesame Street song, “Which one of these doesn’t belong?”

I believe the anniversary photo is a metaphor for my role in our family. I just did not fit. I was so different from the others. The things we were interested in. The things we valued. I was the kid that was too sensitive, too much of a deep thinker, and too spirited. I was the kid who was writing poems about children starving in Bangladesh in middle school rather than learning how to cook from my mother so I could “catch a man” (her words, not mine). I was also a truth teller. When things went wrong in my family, I did not look the other way. I spoke to it. This was not a popular choice among my family members. Don’t get me wrong. I believe my parents and sisters loved me. I just don’t think they knew what to do with me.

When I think about being the odd child out in my family, emotions bubble up to the surface. Grief for not feeling valued for my authentic self. Shame for not being enough of what they wanted me to be. Pride I did not abandon myself (too much) so that I could be a part of the club. When I look at the photo, I see my smile and the joy that is radiating from me. I feel pride that in the midst of not belonging to them, I still found joy in belonging to myself.

And how does not belonging as a child influence me today? I still have to catch myself when I am inclined to hustle for worthiness. This is especially true for the athlete part of me. I am currently doing some cranial sacral therapy and as a result, being more intentional about how I listen to and respect my body. This conflicts with my previous use of athleticism to achieve a sense of worthiness and belonging. Another influence of growing up not belonging is that I have sought out and created relationships with people who do get me. Even when we are not on the same page, they honor me. I value that and it has made me want to show up in the world as authentically as possible. The ripple effect is that as a therapist, I helped other people to show up in their authenticity.

I think all of us have travelled this earth receiving some messages about not fitting in. I think our world is too diverse to not have had that experience. But that’s it; not belonging does not mean anything about our value. It simply means we are a human being among many other human beings. It does not define us. However, it does challenge us to remain true to ourselves and belong to ourselves.

Be well, my dear readers.