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Do you ever walk into a room and instantly feel like you don’t belong?

 

Like your youness is too much, or worse, not enough?

 

I have.

 

My whole life I’ve never felt that deep sense of belonging, never felt comfortable in my skin. I have spent so much time and energy constantly trying to discover the secret to open-armed embraces by others around me.

 

Only that never happens. And it doesn’t matter where I am, but that deep-seated feeling of otherness is a constant, despite my open desire to feel connected and loved.

 

It’s a Hollywood film that replays in my mind before each instance, the times where I walk into the room and light shines down from Heaven letting everyone know that the wait is over as I have arrived.

 

In that room, you know the room, where we immediately assess who is prettier, smarter, thinner, less articulate, too bright, the shrinking violet, the one to befriend, the one to keep at a distance.

 

We immediately assess, judge and box those around us into categories because we need to know where we fit, because we certainly don’t belong.

 

When walking into my daughter’s school I instantly feel a step between me and the families with one home as I’m divorced. School pictures, homework, play dates are all discussed between texts and fleeting moments when transitioning, my ex and I doing our best to provide consistency despite the constant flux of change.

 

At work I show up with other pharmacists and wonder how many meditated that morning, or how many spent the night contemplating if medicines really work and if we simply don’t understand spirit and its link with the mind and body.

 

Workshops I enthusiastically attend, only to enter a room with beautiful, creative, ambitious female entrepreneurs and instantly feel like the imposter, clinging to the algorithms of logic and my left brain rather than expand in imagining and creating simply because it feels right.

 

I’m tired of giving all that energy away.

 

I desire that empowerment to fuel my dreams and pave the knowing of enoughness in that the light may not shine down from Heaven, but it will shine from within me when I enter a room believing I’ve arrived, owning my skin and the space therein.

 

Do you wish the same? What are you holding onto that holds you back?

 

The arrogance of belonging is simply letting go of the question, “Do I belong?”

 

It’s surrendering to the knowing that no matter where I am, who I am, what I do or how I feel, I belong in any space I inhabit simply because I am.

 

Just as I inhale oxygen and love and dance and bleed when I’m cut and cry when I’m hurt…

 

So do you and you and you.

 

We all want to be loved and accepted exactly for who we are.

 

You deserve to show up the big brilliant you, the dark horse calling bullshit, the playful fuck-it spirit, the fierce love going to the mat in being yourself and embracing who you are in each moment as you shine.

 

There will always be someone with more answers, smarter, more creative, prettier, more athletic, thinner, more confident…

 

But you know what?

 

There is no other you and there’s no getting it right in being you.

 

You write the rules.

 

You write the rebellion.

 

Own that shit.