Belonging: Coming Home to Ourselves

Yesterday, a beautiful circle of wisdom-seekers gathered for our Free to Break Through Mastermind.

We came with different stories and questions, yet we were kindred spirits in so many ways, including our desire to feel safe enough to be ourselves, connected enough to be known, and courageous enough to keep becoming.

We gathered to explore Belonging, the B in my BALANCE Framework, and I want to share some of that with you today.

What if belonging isn’t something we have to spend our lives searching for and hoping others will give us? What if it’s a gift we can give ourselves?

Coming Home to Ourselves

Most of us learn early to look outside ourselves for signs that we belong.

Do they like me? Am I invited? Do I fit in here?

And beneath those questions may be a quieter one:

Am I safe being fully myself here?

When the answer has been no, we learn to adjust. We become quieter, more agreeable. We hide the dream that seems too big, swallow the words that might make someone uncomfortable, and become very good at reading the room.

Sometimes we become so practiced at fitting in that we forget to ask whether we are still in the room with ourselves.

Maybe that’s where belonging begins. Not with someone else choosing us, but with us choosing ourselves.

Belonging to ourselves means staying close to who we are, even as we change. It means listening when something inside whispers, This doesn’t fit anymore or There is something more for me.

It means being able to say:

I am still becoming, and I won’t abandon myself along the way.

Once we know we can come home to ourselves, we don’t have to enter every room asking for permission to exist there.

Making Room for One Another

We also need one another.

We need the friend who sees something in us we’ve temporarily forgotten. The person who listens without rushing to fix us. The circle where we can arrive without having everything figured out.

There is a difference between fitting in and belonging.

Fitting in says:

Tell me who I need to be, and I’ll try to become that person.

Belonging says:

Here I am. Is there room for the real me?

And healthy community answers:

Yes. Pull up a chair.

We can become people who create that kind of space for others, too. Notice the person at the edge of the circle. Ask another question and stay long enough to hear the answer. Introduce yourself first.

Every time we do, we make the world a little more inhabitable for another human being.

Carrying Belonging With Us

Eventually, something shifts.

We stop waiting for every room to tell us we belong and begin carrying belonging through the door with us.

There will always be new rooms: a new job, relationship, community, creative calling, or season of life.

We can wait outside for certainty, or enter carrying something more grounding:

I belong to myself.
I have something to offer here.
I am curious about what you have to offer, too.
I don’t have to know everything to take my place among you.

Belonging doesn’t mean every room will welcome us. Some won’t.

It means rejection doesn’t have to set us adrift within ourselves.

We can carry home with us.

Who Do You Think You Are?

One thing that can rob us of that sense of belonging is imposter syndrome.

You get the promotion. Someone asks you to lead. You begin the business. You share the poem. You finally do the thing you’ve dreamed of doing.

And instead of “Look at me grow”, you hear:

“Who do you think you are?”

Imposter syndrome is the experience of having real evidence of our abilities and accomplishments while still fearing that somehow we don’t deserve to be where we are.

Maybe they made a mistake.

Maybe everyone else knows more than I do.

What if they find out?

We compare our insides to everyone else’s outsides: their confidence to our questions, their accomplishments to our uncertainty, their polished presentation to our backstage clutter.

And we conclude:

They belong. I don’t.

When that voice appears, try getting curious instead.

What do I know?
What have I learned, survived, created, contributed? Let the evidence speak.

What story am I adding?
I don’t know the answer is a fact. Everyone will discover I don’t belong here is a story.

What is true?
I can be learning and still be wise.
I can be nervous and still be ready.
Someone else’s brilliance doesn’t diminish mine.
I don’t need to know everything to have something worth contributing.

Then take the next step anyway.

Raise your hand. Ask the question. Walk into the room. Share the idea. Send the manuscript. Sing the song.

Sometimes we think confidence is the ticket that gets us through the door.

Sometimes confidence comes after we walk through it.

We practice belonging, and little by little, our hearts begin to believe us.

What Are You Harvesting?

This conversation is happening at just the right time of year: autumn, when nature seems to whisper:

Look at what has grown.

What is showing up in your life today that once existed only as a hope, prayer, intention, or decision?

And what seed did you plant that made this harvest possible?

Maybe you said yes. Maybe you finally said no. Took a class. Started writing. Forgave. Asked for help. Tried again.

So much of what changes our lives begins quietly.

A seed doesn’t look much like a harvest. That’s why beginnings require faith.

Our habits, words, attention, relationships, and the stories we tell ourselves are seeds, too. We don’t control everything that grows in our lives. There are seasons we never would have chosen.

But we can still ask:

What will I plant now?

What do you want growing in your life a year from today?

Find the seed. Plant it. Tend it.

And don’t dig it up every few days because you haven’t seen anything growing yet.

I wrote a poem about this very idea.

I Reap What I’ve Sown

The temperature’s shifted, a chill licks the air
The scorching sun’s lifted its burdensome glare
I’m gathering in what’s already been sown
Manifestations of what I have grown

My life is a garden, butterflies, bees
And flowers and weeds that stretch skyward through breeze
I was the gardener who planted the seeds
Now I’m the reaper who’s brought to my knees

Now cease from striving, my soul and my heart
This season is done and soon we’ll restart
Assess what sprouts up and in time we’ll be freed
Next spring, I will choose better quality seed

And Now, Awakening

Maybe that’s the beautiful thing about harvest.

It isn’t really an ending. Inside every harvest are the seeds of what comes next.

On October 7 at 5:00 p.m. Pacific, our Free to Break Through Mastermind continues with the A in BALANCE: Awakening.

We’ll listen for what is stirring. What wants to be created? What have you been longing for? What part of yourself has been waiting for enough safety, space, and courage to wake up?

If you’re feeling something stirring, come sit with us.

Visit our calendar of gatherings to register and receive the meeting link.

There is room for you here.