I’m having one of those weeks where my I-DONT-BELONG monster is running around pointing out all the places that I don’t fit in. Places where I used to fit in. Places where I never fit in. Places I have no hope of fitting in. Places where I don’t even want to fit in, but wish I felt like the people who do fit in. Places where other people might think I fit in, but I actually don’t. Places where I fit in, but only if I’m huddled up in a ball, waving my arms around like antenna, and paint my face with red and yellow polka dots. Places where I pretend to fit in, but my IDB monster knows I don’t and we’re all deathly afraid that someone who does fit in is going to notice and throw me out any minute now.
I feel it everywhere. All the places that I should fit in, but I don’t quite. The office, the studio, the fucking coffee shop. I wait in line hoping that when I get there, magically my body will fit the puzzle, my mind will know the secret handshake, and I’ll be in. Like Flynn. But I’m not in. Because I’m not a cardboard puzzle, and there isn’t a secret handshake or a hidden passageway.
So I hated myself. And went on a diet. And beat myself up. And stayed too late at work. And tried to please my boss and my lover. I was even nice to the telemarketers that called during dinner.
I tried to smash my soul into someone else’s definition of writer, dancer, woman… knowing that I’d never make it fit.
And suddenly I accepted it.
I Don’t Belong
I don’t belong anywhere that I have to pretend I’m someone else. Pretend I like martinis when I actually want a scotch. Pretend I like Twilight when I really can’t stand it. Pretend that I care about having sex so loud that I wake up the neighbors. I don’t.
In fact the ONLY place I truly belong is with myself. My authentic, no bullshit, 100% pure, unadulterated self.
I realized, the only person that can ever know all the secrets that make you unique is you. Anybody that tells you they know you better than you know your self, is selling you something. And I’m not buying it anymore.
So today, I practiced not belonging. I practiced being selfish. I practiced belonging only to me. I imagined a world where I filled myself up first. I gave myself Joy first. Love first. Compassion and Beauty first.
I chose the experiences that made my toes curl with excitement. Orgasms from a life well lived! And once I was full, then and only then did I share from a heart overflowing.
This is what it means to belong to yourself. To live by your own rules, instead of the rules society tries to impose on us. They say; Don’t dance in skimpy clothes. Don’t laugh too loud. Don’t color your hair pink or get a huge dragon tattoo on your hip. Screw that!
No one knows what’s best for me. I’m going to say that again because it’s important.
No One Knows What’s Best For You, Except You.
Not your mother, or your friends, or your boss, or your lover. You may agree with them or they may convince you, but in the end, the person that has to live with your choices is you.
So belong to you.
Own Your Choices. Own Your Life. Stop trying to belong somewhere else; that ivy league school, that aerial troop, that advanced pole class. If you’re trying to fit in somewhere, you’re missing out on all the secrets hidden inside your true self.
Spend time to rediscover yourself. What jokes make you laugh until you cry? What songs make you dance with fierce abandon? What turns you on and sends you over the edge?
Live for yourself. Dance for yourself. Love your body because it’s the most precious one you’ll ever have.
When you know yourself, your secrets, your true heart’s desires, you’ll finally belong. You’ll belong to your Self and no one else.