Have you ever met a group of people for the first time, and 10 seconds into the conversation, you’re quite certain you’re the odd one out? And, you intuitively know that they know you’re the odd one out?
Then you rack your brains trying to figure out a way to save face because, at this point, you’re sure you’re wearing your insecurity for all to see in the beads of sweat on your forehead. And somehow, you know that they know that you know, you don’t belong in this crowd. Which makes it all the more excruciating.
And yet, you can’t put your finger on it. They’re polite, relatively smiley, they even ask you a few questions here and there. But as you look into each other’s eyes, and you try to fumble out introductory words about yourself, or join a conversational topic on which you suddenly feel clueless; everyone concerned knows, they just don’t like you.
So you zero in on one person because you haven’t the heart to put yourself through even trying to hold a conversation with the entire group. The person is probably unwilling, being concerned they’ll lose status in the dynamics of this social situation.
Yet here you both are, in a silent agreement to wade through the unfortunate conversation which is about to ensue, which none of you wish to partake in.
Maybe there’s no particular reason they don’t take to you. Or maybe, there are several. Whatever the case may be, that thick layer of awkwardness, unease, and strained conversation dotted with forced smiles is so heavily suffocating that it warms you up like a shrivelled chicken in an oven. Making your underarms prickle with sweat, your tongue suddenly laden with indecision, and your heartbeat palpitate as fast as the conversation transpiring around you - which evidently, you cannot keep up with.
This situation might happen anywhere. At a party when you meet your partner’s friends, at the pub with your manager and colleagues. Basically anywhere you have to encounter people you don’t know, or you’re not close with. It could be that your interests are entirely different from those of the people around you, to the point where what they’re discussing seems a foreign language.
It could perhaps be because you feel you have less experience and knowledge than them in some form, or you have considerably more.
You might be on the same salary now, but somehow sense you were raised in a totally different socio-economic background to them.
Maybe you speak differently from everyone around you - or not in the way they would expect you to speak. Plus, the conversation is a little too crass for you. Or, not crass enough.
I’ve had the pleasure of being acquainted with all of these socially awkward scenarios. And I’ve found that the visuals often throw an extra hurdle in the dreaded obstacle race of 'fitting in the fastest'.
Some obvious examples being when I’ve been the only female or the only person of colour in the room. A particularly interesting experience to navigate is being both the only person of colour and the only female.
Wanting to belong
Perhaps these moments when you feel a deep sense of being out of place can be overlooked if it happens at the odd party that you can purposefully forget about the next day. But as is often the case, these moments tend also to happen - and more intensely so - when the stakes are high, and something important to you seemingly depends on your ability to become part of the pack.
You can probably find a heap of information teaching you how to fit in better and feel confident in doing so. But where does the desire to fit in actually come from?
Other than the fact we’re socialised right from school to sit, stand, walk, talk, and dress in unison; it also stems from caring what others think about us. How they perceive, and consequently, value us.
That we need acceptance, validation - and ultimately, love - isn’t to be shied away from. Regardless of the nature of a relationship, human connection is crucial for our emotional and mental well-being. But considering how profoundly paramount these things are to us, how logical is it to leave in the hands of others to give you? Furthermore, people who don’t know you enough to care - strangers, even.
If we’re honest with ourselves, it’s can be hard enough to be given such affirming reinforcements from loved ones and close friends - consistently, at least. Because we all have our shortcomings and baggage that affect our ability to appreciate and communicate with each other. That’s why in close relationships, communication is monumental, to constantly negotiate with each other and iterate on what our needs are.
But inevitably, it’s the ones closest that can hurt us the most - certainly more so than any stranger. Knowing that, does it make sense to depend on someone who doesn’t even know you, to give you that sense of belonging? Is it safe to let the crux of your confidence rest on their unknown shoulders?
Even if we succeed in obtaining comradery from them, how fulfilling can it really be, if you had to break your back shape-shifting to get them to accept you? Indeed, if an alliance formed between people is solely based on everyone doing, looking, saying, and laughing at the same things, one has to question the strength of such a bond.
Being freely accepted
What if the sense of belonging we’re seeking, can only come from within ourselves? This doesn’t mean that holing yourself up alone in a room is the best answer - although, if the other option is being surrounded by people but feeling entirely alone, one might argue solitude is sometimes the better option. Even so, we do all need that sense of belonging from time to time.
But, if it’s acceptance we want, we can never authentically get that until we’re able to accept ourselves as we are.
And something is freeing in this. Knowing that you’re different, embracing it, and connecting with open people who have enough depth to them, to talk with someone who doesn’t fit the mold they’re used to.
Fitting in isn’t about deadening half of yourself to become palatable enough for others to accept, but to actively accept yourself enough to be free and completely yourself in conversation.
That’s the only version of ‘you’ that can draw out the genuine, more edifyingly exciting connections. And with time and practice, it can instill a sense of peace within yourself, regardless of whether you’re part of the in-crowd or not.