There was a time when I felt like I was always one step out of sync with the world. I’d walk into rooms and feel like I had to scan the energy, adjust my volume, hide the things that made me "too much" or "not enough." I’d laugh when something wasn’t funny just to keep the peace. I’d nod in agreement even when my heart whispered, that’s not true for you.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to belong.I desperately did. But I thought I had to earn belonging by molding myself into someone more acceptable, more polished, more... normal.
The problem was, the more I edited myself, the lonelier I became. Not because people didn’t love me, but because they didn’t really know me. I was hiding the real parts, my weirdness, my depth, my messiness, my curiosity, my tenderness. All the things that make me, me.
The turning point came slowly. Not in a single, dramatic moment, but in quiet realizations. In tears I didn’t fully understand. In days where I felt disconnected from my own body. In moments when someone would genuinely see me, just as I was, and instead of shrinking away, they’d lean in. And I’d feel this wave of relief: I didn’t have to perform. I was enough.
I started to understand that authenticity isn’t about being loud or rebellious or constantly sharing everything. It’s about being true. It’s about living in alignment with what feels real. It’s about giving yourself permission to stop pretending and start honoring the quiet truth of who you are.
And weirdly enough, that’s what saved me: my weirdness. The parts I once tried to hide became the parts I now cherish the most. My sensitive nature. My spiritual side. My love for rituals and quiet mornings and raw conversations. My fierce sense of justice. My habit of feeling things way too deeply. And my strength and resilience in situations where I used to be told I was cold, when really, I was just protecting something tender. I was just trying to be wise. I’ve learned that even the parts of me that were misunderstood were never wrong, they were just waiting to be claimed.
When I stopped apologizing for being different, I found people who loved me because of it. I found work that made sense to my soul. I started living, not just performing.
It’s not always easy. Sometimes I still catch myself shrinking, smoothing, explaining. But more and more, I come back to center. Back to truth. Back to me.
I don’t want to live a life where I’m always waiting for permission. I want to live unapologetically, even when it’s awkward or misunderstood. Because there’s nothing more beautiful than someone who has come home to themselves, and I’m learning how to do that, a little more each day.
If you’ve ever felt like you didn’t belong, maybe it’s not because you were wrong. Maybe it’s because you were real. Maybe the world told you to dim your light, but your soul came here to shine.
So here’s to your weird. Here’s to your wild edges and soft center. Here’s to the journey of returning to yourself, one small act of courage at a time.
The world doesn’t need more perfect people. It needs more real ones. And that includes you.
