Do you fit in?

And does it matter?

Hello, and thank you for reading The Honesty Box.

Today, I’m writing about fitting in.

I met some of my best girlfriends, their husbands and children, for a picnic in a park recently - most of whom I hadn’t seen for ages due to the pandemic. They are women that I love and respect, who have seen me at my best and worst in the more than 20 years we’ve known each other. We’ve stuck together through thick and thin and I’m very happy and fortunate to have them in my life.

But, if I’m honest, I was a little apprehensive beforehand. I’m currently single and don’t have kids, so how would I feel? Would I fit in?

Fitting in is something I’ve often feared would elude me - and I imagine I’m not the only one. From coming last in a primary school swimming race (one where you inexplicably had to wear pyjamas) to a teenage lunchtime when my friends left our classroom to meet boys unannounced while I was still eating my sandwiches, memories of feeling left out, or coming last, still linger.

I ran across the road to catch up with my boy-chasing friends to be told “Don’t be so keen!” by one of the girls, so I hung back and flipped my hair to the side, trying to look cool. And I can still remember the feeling of floating my way to the wall at the end of the pool and heaving myself up the ladder in my sodden PJs after that primary school race. Perhaps the swimming example is more about a sense of embarrassment than exclusion, but at the time I felt like I didn’t fit in with the rest of the group.

Belonging … doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are - Brené Brown

I’ve sometimes managed to avoid situations where I was convinced I wouldn’t fit in. While dating a sporty American in my twenties, I turned down a casual frisbee-throwing afternoon because I couldn’t throw or catch, getting drunk with a friend on a rooftop instead.

On that occasion, not showing up was about not wanting to look foolish, but if I’d been ready to be my ‘real’ self, I could have gone to meet the group, been honest about my lack of skills and maybe had a go anyway. (In an attempt to improve my hand-eye coordination a few years ago, I tried touch rugby. It felt like an out-of-body experience - and not in a good way.)

Which brings me to one of Brené Brown’s books, Daring Greatly. If you’ve not come across Brené, she is a research professor known for her work on vulnerability and she argues that being vulnerable – or showing our real selves – is a strength, not a weakness.

Here’s what she says about fitting in and belonging, based on her studies:

“Fitting in and belonging are not the same thing. In fact, fitting in is one of the greatest barriers to belonging. Fitting in is about assessing a situation and becoming what you need to be in order to be accepted. Belonging, on the other hand, doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.”

Brené asked 13 and 14 year-olds to consider the differences between fitting in and belonging. This is the response that struck me the most: “Belonging is being accepted for you. Fitting in is being accepted for being like everyone else.”

I’d add that a sense of belonging is also about accepting yourself. For example, another way to look at losing the pyjama swimming competition might have been: “Well, although I came last, I still finished the race - and that’s OK.”

I’m still working on allowing the real me to show, by saying how I’m actually feeling instead of masking the truth with that common phrase “I’m fine,” being honest about my poor frisbee skills - but having a go anyway - and not flipping my hair over when there are boys (well, men) around. Sure, I sometimes still have feelings of wanting to fit in, but I’ve realised I can choose to accept that I belong, with no changes necessary.

On that day in the park, I acknowledged to one friend that I’d been feeling a little apprehensive, and it turns out that was all I needed to do to show the real me. Did I feel like I belonged? Absolutely.

How do you feel about fitting in?

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Things I like

Try not to cry…

…at this video about what people have in common with each other, though on the surface they might appear very different. It’s been watched more than 8 million times. With thanks to David Edmonds for sending it to me.

Strangers in the street

The Economist has reviewed three books about talking to strangers and why it’s important (you can read the article in exchange for your email address). I liked this line: “People are now stumbling back into a world of accidental collisions, some eagerly, some queasily, most with an odd sensation of novelty after a year of hibernation.” Bring on the novelty, I say.