Belonging

The Spiritual Journey Home to Myself

From as early as I can remember, I felt like I didn’t quite belong, I didn't quite fit. Not in an overt way, it was an underlying sense. On the surface, I was just like every other kid, doing what I was told, following the rules, trying my best. But underneath, something was always off kilter. A dull ache of not knowing, a sense that I was doing something wrong, even when I wasn’t sure what that something was.

Now, looking back through the lens of insight and growth, I understand that what I was truly longing for—what I was desperate to find in friendships, family, workplaces, and communities—was a sense of belonging. Not the surface-level kind, the one that comes from matching outfits or shared hobbies. I craved the deep, soul-level knowing that I am okay, that I am welcome here, that I am safe.

Where Does the Drive to Belong Come From?

Our need to belong is not weakness. It is woven into the fabric of our biology and consciousness. Psychologically, the human brain is wired for connection. Belonging is a survival instinct. In our earliest days, being part of a group meant we had a greater chance of being fed, protected, and cared for. Our nervous systems learned to interpret social inclusion as safety, and rejection as danger.

So when we feel like we don’t belong, even as adults, it doesn’t just feel disappointing—it can feel terrifying.

Our brains perceive disconnection as a threat to our well-being. The internal alarm system goes off: You’re not safe! Something is wrong! Fix it! And so we chase external forms of belonging to soothe that internal panic. We try harder. We fit in. We shapeshift. We over give. We hide our weird, our wild, our true.

But it’s never enough.

Why Does My Brain Keep Looking for a Place to Belong?

The mind is a meaning-making machine. It scans constantly for evidence that we are safe, loved, included. It’s always asking: Am I okay? Do I matter? Where do I fit? When we’ve experienced rejection, trauma, or even consistent childhood messaging that said “don’t do that,” “look what you’ve done,” or “I warned you,” the brain starts to code curiosity as danger, mistakes as moral failings, and difference as a threat.

My upbringing was loving. My parents were awesome. But the language I heard—the constant stream of consequences—created a lens through which I saw myself as fundamentally wrong. Every exploration became a potential hazard. Every misstep a sign that I was too much, too clumsy, too curious, too everything. I wanted to belong, but I also wanted to be myself. The two seemed incompatible.

So I learned to abandon parts of myself in order to feel safe.

The Family Paradox: How We Can Feel Like Outsiders in Our Own Homes

Family is supposed to be our first sense of home, the original place of belonging. And for many, it is. But that doesn’t mean it’s always simple. We can love our families deeply and still feel misunderstood by them. We can look around the dinner table and know, “These are my people,” while a quiet voice whispers, “But they don’t really see me.”

Why? Because true belonging requires two things: authenticity and acceptance.

When we are only loved for the version of ourselves that conforms to family expectations, the love feels conditional. We feel like guests in our own lives. And when our inner self—the quirky, curious, bold, emotional, intuitive self—doesn’t align with what’s celebrated or accepted in the family system, we can carry a subtle shame that says, “I must be the problem.”

But here’s the beautiful twist: the older I’ve gotten, the more I understand that belonging in my family doesn’t require their full understanding of me. It simply requires my full acceptance of them and myself. I can honour our differences. I can show up as I am. I belong here, not because we’re the same, but because this is part of my story.

Community: The Mirror of Our Inner Belonging

As I moved through the world—friendships, workspaces, social circles—I kept searching for my people. I longed for connection that felt like coming home. I wanted someone to say, “You’re one of us. We get you.” But too often, I found myself feeling like a misfit, even in communities that claimed to value authenticity. I questioned if I was too sensitive, too inept, too outspoken, too honest.

Without belonging, the soul withers. We are communal beings. To thrive, we need to be mirrored—to see ourselves reflected back through the eyes of others with love and understanding. But here’s what I’ve come to realise: we can’t see that reflection clearly until we see ourselves clearly.

When we’re disconnected from who we are, being around others can make us feel even more alone. Isolation feeds on that disconnection. We think we’re hiding to protect ourselves, but really, we’re cutting ourselves off from nourishment.

The Turning Point: From Band-Aids to Deep Healing

For years, I applied band-aids to my belonging wound. I joined groups, tried different careers, moved towns, adjusted my personality, even shifted my spiritual beliefs—just trying to find the right fit. And sometimes it worked. Temporarily. When the wound was only weeping, those patches felt enough.

But when life cut deep—when the wound was gushing, when I was disjointed and dysregulated—those band-aids didn’t hold.

The truth finally arrived in a moment of stillness: I don’t feel safe because I don’t belong to myself.

I had been outsourcing my sense of belonging to everything and everyone around me, hoping they would give me the permission slip to exist. But no one else could give me what I hadn’t first given myself: acceptance. Presence. Love.

A New Truth: I Belong

These days, I live a new truth. One that is simple and radical.

I belong.

Not because others approve.

Not because I’ve proven my worth.

Not because I’ve found the perfect community.

I belong because I exist.

Because I am.

Because this is my life, and I say yes to it.

I belong in every space I choose to enter.

Even if others feel uncomfortable.

Even if I feel unsure.

I belong because I am present. Anchored. At one with myself and all that I am.

That belonging stems from humility—not ego.

It’s not about declaring superiority or demanding acceptance. It’s about owning my presence with reverence. Trusting that wherever I am, there’s a reason. That even uncomfortable moments serve my expansion.

Belonging is no longer something I seek. It’s something I live.

Actionable Ways to Deepen Your Sense of Belonging

Here are a few practices that have helped me strengthen my connection to myself, others, and the world around me:

1. Practice Self-Acceptance Daily

   Start your day with this affirmation: I belong in my life. I am welcome here. Say it aloud, write it down, repeat it until it feels like truth.

2. Anchor in the Body

   Use tummy breathing (in for 4, out for 6), meditation, or movement (like yoga or dance) to reconnect with your body. Belonging begins with embodiment. If you're not at home in your body, it's hard to feel at home anywhere else.

3. Be Authentically You in Relationships

   When you feel the urge to conform, pause and ask: Is this who I am or who I think they want me to be? Start showing up as your full self, gently but consistently.

   
   

4. Seek and Cultivate Like-Minded Connections

   Find or create spaces where people are exploring similar values and ideas. Not to rely on them for your identity, but to experience the joy of mutual resonance.

5. Do Shadow Work Around Rejection

   Journaling or working with a Kinesiologist or spiritual mentor can help you uncover the old wounds that still drive the fear of not belonging. Offer compassion to those inner parts.

6. Connect to Something Greater

   Whether it’s Source, Spirit, Nature, or the Divine—cultivate a relationship with something bigger than yourself. When you feel part of the whole, belonging becomes natural.

7. Create Rituals of Homecoming

   Light a candle and come back to yourself. Have a song, a place, a practice that grounds you in your truth. Remind yourself daily: This is home. I am home.

The more I live from this grounded place, the more I see that belonging isn’t something I have to fight for or prove. It’s a sacred birthright. One that begins within and ripples outward.

I used to think I needed others to tell me I was okay. Now I know: I am more than okay. I am whole. I belong.

And so do you..