You’ll encounter them again and again throughout your lifetime: people who make you feel excluded, out of the loop, not part of the group. It’s a terrible feeling, because our brains are wired to belong. As herd animals we didn’t survive wihout our pack in cave times, and even though these days we can find food, water, and shelter without the help of others, we still need belonging to feel whole and happy.
Using the threat of exclusion is a powerful one. Being shunned in Amish culture is the worst punishment there is, and it’s easy to see why. Can you imagine being ignored by everyone you know and love? Nobody speaking to you, looking at you, acknowledging you? Well, I bet you can. Most of us have experienced at least a version of it ourselves. Friends chatting about something they did together you weren’t invited to; coworkers who stop talking the moment you come within earshot, making you automatically assume that they must have talked about you; a group of people ignoring you when you join them, making you feel invisible and embarrassed.
It hurts, and it feels deeply personal. You can’t help but draw the conclusion that it’s you; that you don’t deserve to be included because something’s wrong with you.
Having been on the other side of it as well – part of the group, one of the people who stopped talking herself when others come close, not taking the time to greet the newcomer who’s just joined – I know that the truth is both simpler and more predictable. It’s thoughtlessness. Thoughtlessness mixed with a dash of cruelty, because being in the know, being included, being on the inside while others aren’t feels powerful. The sense of control (or the illusion of control) it gives you is like a shot of dopamine that makes you feel giddy and important.
Everybody is a villain in someone else’s story. I remember when I first read that, how deeply it affected me. That thought had never occurred to me. I had always seen myself as the victim, the one things were being done to, and I never even considered that I could also be the villain in other people’s lives.
That realization has done a lot to help me re-evaluate old beliefs I hadn’t questioned in decades.
One of my beliefs was that I’m an outsider. I have felt like an outsider pretty much all of my life, on the outskirts of many groups, fully included in none. Sometimes that made me feel sad or sorry for myself; but armed with the new realization that we all contain many complicated traits at once, I looked at it from another angle, and a startling question came to me.
Do I choose to be an outsider?
I come from a long line of introverts. My parents, sister, and grandparents are all pretty hardcore introverts. So am I, despite fighting it for a long time because I thought introverts are weird loners and extroverts are the cool people having all the fun. Fighting who you are is a losing battle that hurts like hell, so I wouldn’t recommend it. Still, many of us do it, because we believe that success and happiness follow a specific formula, and the formula looks something like successful career+money+lots of friends=happiness. It’s the old cliché of working hard and playing hard, and playing hard always looks like being the life of the party surrounded by a ton of beautiful people who all adore you and tell you frequently how much they love you.
My happiness looks different from that. I need hours of alone time every single day to stay grounded and happy. A perfect day for me starts out with me being alone in my bed, with only my dogs, my coffee, and my laptop for company. My husband’s still sleeping in the other room, and the house is quiet. Once my morning writing is finished, I take the two little dogs (our Blue Heeler Dixie and her daughter Mia) for a long walk. Sometimes I’ll meet with a friend to walk together, but 95% of the time I’m alone, because I want to be. Starting my day with solitude sets me up to be fully present in my job where I deal with people all day long. What I’ve learnt is that by honouring my needs, I can truly enjoy the company of other people. There’s nothing I enjoy more than finding pockets of belonging throughout my day: listening and relating to the personal story of a patient; having a heart-to-heart in the middle of the night with co-workers; sharing a vulnerable moment with someone who replies “I know how you feel, because I feel the same”.
What I try to do every day is to be present when I’m around people. I don’t want anyone to feel excluded anymore, so I do the simple things that don’t cost anything: greet everyone with a smile, ask how they’re doing. Fill them in on what we’re talking about when they join in the middle of a conversation. Be kind, but honour my boundaries.
I’ve come to see that I am on the outskirts because that’s where I want to be. I find humans endlessly fascinating, but at the same time incredibly draining as well. I want to participate, but only occasionally. I want to be part of it, but only when it suits me. I like the role of observer more than being an active participant all the time. When mutual friends come to our house, I love to hang out for a while but then leave, because I find sitting around the kitchen table and talking for hours exhausting, while my husband likes nothing better.
The more I get to know myself, the more I’ve come to see that I’m not an outsider; I belong to myself.
❤️ Miriam