Fitting Out

Much of my life, I've struggled with fitting in. At school as a child and then later as an adult. At work and in every social setting I have ever set foot.
I've never been a 'joiner.' But deep down, I wanted to be.
I've always fit in more with the outsiders. Typically a group of slightly cynical guys who didn't care about grades or work or what the popular kids where doing. They were oblivious to the cliques and didn't care that they were outside the norm. They didn't care that I was either.
This 'group' has kept me warm throughout my life. They sheltered me when the popular kids found me fit to pick on. And yet, I've always had one foot in the group, one foot pointed toward something more.
I want to be involved.
At work, there is a spirit squad. And more than half of me considers it to be 'so lame,' while the other half of me wonders if the 'lameness' is derived from the fact that I wasn't invited to play.
Even on Twitter, a social media platform that stretches the globe, I find cliques. Locally, there are those who attend tweetups and those who are 'above it.' It becomes even more fractioned when you consider those who go to the tweetup and those who run them.
Could I fit into this upper echelon of twitter society?
Except sometimes I find myself still sitting at the 'not so cool table.' The table where half of us desperately want to be at the cool table but don't say so for fear of rocking the boat where the other half are content to be loners.
I've floated successfully throughout my life, pretending not to care. And sometimes, I don't. I'm fine in my house with my husband and our dogs.
But other times, I yearn to be at some silly girly group, included and wanted.
And the saddest, scariest part of all of this is that I know the biggest hold up is me.
This morning, I read an interesting post by Kerri about a house she grew up in. And it made me think.
Think about life. About growing up. And how the tiniest things from our past shape us to become the people we are today. And how the silliest of actions when we were 7 can still be scars we wear on our faces that only we can see.
How the house I grew up in and the actions of my mother are things I will never be able to get past. That despite my complete detachment of my maiden name, I'm still that little girl from Sheridan who was picked last because she was gawky and awkward and trying her damnedest to fit in, only to find out that the only person around who doesn't believe in her is herself.


  1. You don't give yourself enough credit. And you totally should. I think you're quite awesome. And you have fun hair.

  2. Audreya is right. I spent my hs years "fitting in" and being that person. I went to my "true" self my senior year, and you know? She was much better, and the friends- the real ones? Way cooler. I've struggled to "fit in" before, but mostly, i am just who I am. I think. wait..

    I adore you though!

  3. You know? I wonder if you don't "fit in" because of your intellect. So many times those who are following the trend are uncomfortable with those who THINK about why they are participating. Easier to leave them behind, right?

  4. Let me confirm that a "spirit squad" for the workplace is indeed lame.

  5. I've struggled with this as well...even moving to Ohio and not knowing ANYONE I would try desperatly to find a friend and "fit in" and it just didn't work. Sigh. I think you are beautiful and amazing!! XOXO

  6. I have struggled with this all my life as well. I was too smart to be with the "rebel kids" I wasn't an athlete. I really didn't care enough about grades to be a "nerd" per se but that is where I ended up.

    It's hard. Sometimes I "fit in" and sometimes I don't.

    If the "spirit squad" is something that someone would put on their resume at a later date, I would ask the powers why I wasn't chosen.

    Hey wait a minute, you usually sit with me at TWEETUP. What do you mean I'm "NOT SO COOL"

  7. yah. I second Nikol! ANYTHING with the word "spirit" should be avoided at all costs.

  8. So I've read this post a couple of times and I get it. I was just like you. I felt I never completely fit in with the cool kids. I struggle with it still all the time. I want to think people don't like me, and they probably don't.

    I have had the wonderful opportunity to talk to you a little lately and I can tell you that you are cool.

    You talk about the group that organizes tweetups, I am a member that group. I've put together the past 4. You are more than worthy to be a part of us as far as I am concerned.

    But again, I understand. I struggle with it too every day. I can't imagine a person who would want to spend time around me, yet they still do if I let them.

  9. Well, first - obviously I'm very behind in my reader. Coming quite late to the conversation...

    Second, and most important - you got this all so right. That feeling of not fitting - the funny thing is I tend to believe most of us have it somewhere (or many somewheres) in our lives. And then the other side of that - the realization that so much of it is in our own minds. I see the difference between my outgoing husband and me: he walks into the room expecting smiles and welcomes, I walk in hoping to see one friendly face, expecting to feel awkward and misplaced. I still get nervous walking in to every tweetup. And he's not arrogant, just optimistic, and the baby of his family. That viewpoint comes naturally to him.

    When I have to get up in front of people and speak, and I'm nervous, he'll say to me "Remember, you're talking to friends." It's a wonderful help to me. So lately, when I find myself walking into a room that I find scary, I've started telling myself versions of that same idea. "Remember, these people want to meet you. They are excited to get to know you." Sounds silly, but I carry much baggage, and sometimes those thoughts can help me act my way into the room, until I'm comfortable enough on my own.

    Well, those thoughts and a glass of wine, usually...

  10. I'm so behind on my reading. I just saw this.
    I want to wrap my arms around you and cover the wounds and heal your heart and tell you over and over again that you are enough. Just as you are.
    You are enough. You are loved. You are wanted. You are exactly who you should be. You are enough. Just as you are.