Be-Longing For You

Welcome back lovelies and beau’s to the latest Rising From the Ashes series! Today’s post carries a weight I didn’t anticipate. There’s a lot to unpack, but one realization in particular stands out—one that caught me off guard in ways I never expected. It was intimidating, powerful, and, quite honestly, life-changing.

For a long time, I moved through life feeling a certain disconnect, though I could never quite put my finger on why. It was as if I existed in spaces that never truly felt like mine. And yet, I kept going—through school, college, graduations, career shifts, and countless moments of personal growth—collecting lessons along the way. But this one? This was different.

I stepped into it hesitant but excited, eager for something new but unaware of just how much it would shift my perspective. And let me tell you—what happened next? I never saw it coming.

So, let’s dive in, shall we?

The most recent event that truly made me question who I am and what I’ve been missing happened at a job I held. During the interview process, I was intrigued when they mentioned having a DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) department. Now, I’m not here to argue or sway opinions, but I was genuinely curious to learn more. Up until then, every position I had held only had an HR department, so I was interested to see what the “hype” was about and how this department would differ, or not, from the HR roles I had encountered.

At first, I saw it as a learning opportunity—a chance to understand how these efforts were actively implemented within the company. But as time went on, I began to notice something unsettling. It became glaringly clear that certain groups of people were being excluded, but not in the way you might expect. I can’t go into too much detail, but it wasn’t about race, and yet it still hit home in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

I had already learned a hard lesson in the past: that sometimes standing up for others is not as simple as it seems. People need to be the ones to stand up for themselves when they feel it’s necessary, not because I think they should. So, I stepped back, thinking that would be the right approach. But soon enough, I began to notice that I, too, was being left out—excluded from meetings, pushed to the margins in subtle but significant ways.

This stirred something deep within me, a chord that resonated louder with each passing day. It was then that I began to connect the dots, to realize that there was more at play than I had initially understood. It was like a long-forgotten puzzle slowly coming together, revealing a picture I wasn’t fully ready to face.

But as I reflected more, I realized something else. Even though I had always been able to connect with people, there was something missing. A sense of depth, maybe. A part of me that I had never quite shared or understood. It’s as if I had been going through the motions without fully experiencing the essence of what it meant to truly be with others. The surface-level connections I had always made left me wondering if there was something more beneath the surface that I had yet to uncover.

From a young age, making friends was never a challenge. No matter where I was—whether in a familiar place or somewhere completely new—I found connection with ease. I thrived in group activities, laughed my way through adventures with friends, and embraced the spontaneity that life had to offer. On the surface, it seemed like I had everything I needed.

And yet, there was always something lingering beneath it all, something I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t about being shy or struggling to fit in—I was there, present, part of the moment. But at times, it felt as though I was moving through the world without fully settling into it. Like I was playing a role I understood but never entirely felt. Maybe it was about expectations—spoken or unspoken. Maybe it was something else. All I knew was that no matter how full my life looked from the outside, something always felt just out of reach.

However, I didn’t question it much. It was just the way things were and I accepted as such. But looking back now, I see it all a little differently.

Over time, I began to notice a quiet push and pull within myself. It wasn’t the kind that demanded attention or validation—I never needed to be the loudest voice in the room, nor did I crave the spotlight. In fact, I preferred the opposite. I’ve always been more of a wallflower, observing rather than taking center stage, content in my own space. I figured if someone truly wanted to know me, they would ask. And if they didn’t? Well, maybe that was just the way things were meant to be.

More recently, however, I’ve come to understand something I hadn’t before. The deepest connections—the ones that go beyond surface-level interactions—require more than just presence. They require openness, a willingness to share your thoughts, beliefs, and perspectives, even when it feels uncomfortable. Not because you need others to agree with you, but because self-expression is a bridge, a way of truly existing within the world rather than just moving through it.

For a long time, I never thought much about what I shared or what I didn’t. It wasn’t intentional—I wasn’t guarding secrets or deliberately holding back. It just was. Some things felt too personal, too intricate to bring up unless there was a reason to. And if someone wanted to know, they’d ask… right?

Maybe it was because I’ve always been more reserved, content to listen rather than take up space. Or maybe it was just the way life unfolded, shaping me into someone who kept the deeper parts of myself tucked away. Not out of fear, not out of distrust—just out of habit. It felt natural, effortless even.

It wasn’t until much later that the pieces began to align, and I started to see a quiet pattern emerge—one that linked the things I left unspoken with the spaces where I never quite felt like I belonged. I used to think that when something truly mattered, it would find its way into conversation naturally, at the right time. I’d wait for those moments, and if something felt urgent, I would speak up—almost too quickly, as if trying to force it out. However, when it comes to the more deeper, more meaningful parts of ourselves, those don’t always reveal themselves so easily. They require a little more intention, a willingness to be seen in ways that are unfamiliar. And this was a lesson I had yet to learn.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t shared meaningful conversations with others—I had. But there was always this sense that something was missing. Something that could turn a conversation into something more—closer, more intimate. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was, or why it felt the way it did.

During the first part of 2024, I found myself operating more in survival mode than anything else. It felt instinctual—like the only option was to build walls, to create distance, to focus on simply getting through. At the time, it seemed necessary, a way to keep the unpredictable at bay, to maintain control in whatever small ways I could.

What I didn’t realize was that in protecting myself, I was also shutting others out. Not deliberately, not consciously—it just happened. I told myself it was for the best, that I was doing what I needed to do to stay intact. And maybe I was. But looking back, I can’t help but wonder what else I was keeping away in the process.

I remember a particular afternoon, sitting across from my friend at lunch. We had always shared so much—stories, thoughts, little pieces of our lives that made up the bigger picture. But something had shifted. I hadn’t realized it in the moment, but looking back, I can see it more clearly now.

The more life weighed on me, the more I withdrew. Not intentionally, not with any real decision behind it—it just happened. I was running on empty, stretched thin in every way possible. So, I let her talk, let her vent, let her fill the space between us while I sat there, quieter than usual. It wasn’t that I didn’t care—I did. I just didn’t have any energy left to give.

It got to the point, that there were moments I recognized I needed a break, a chance to catch my breath. But in that season of my life, rest wasn’t an option. Time off wasn’t readily available, and stepping away wasn’t just about me—I had others depending on me, too. So, I stayed. I pushed through. I kept moving forward the only way I knew how: by retreating inward, by holding it all together, by keeping my walls up—because at the time, that felt like the only way to keep myself together.

When I lost my job due to a small misunderstanding, I was caught off guard. It didn’t make sense—how could something I valued slip away so easily? The feeling of being lost crept in again, like I was adrift without an anchor. In response, I did what I knew best: I built another wall. Another layer to protect myself from the unknown, from the hurt, and from the pain deep within.

Then came the family trip. At first, I didn’t have many expectations. It was a dream I had for a while. When it finally happened, it didn’t feel real. Yet there were some difficult moments, some things that shouldn’t have happened, but somewhere along the way, I began to drop my guard. In those days I spent crying my heart out due to circumstances of the trip as well as additional stress that occurred throughout the trip, looking back that was me letting go and releasing all of the weight I had been carrying. The heartache, the frustration, the long-held pain—it all began to spill out. It was something that occurred unintentional. It just… happened. Like everything inside me reached a breaking point, and all I could do was release it in those moments.

It wasn’t until I returned home that I truly understood how much I had been holding in. I had always known the importance of letting go, of not carrying emotions too tightly, yet somehow, I had been doing just that without even realizing it. It was only on the path back to myself that I saw just how much I had kept locked away—and how necessary it was to finally set it free.

As I slowly began to release the emotions I had worked so hard to push aside, I started to feel a shift—like a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying was finally lifting. It wasn’t instant, and it wasn’t easy. The process was slow, almost unnoticeable at first. But with each moment of release, I felt a little more like myself again. And while there are things I still can’t talk about, moments that remain behind locked doors until I’m ready. I’m trying to work through these things I haven’t discussed before or situations I briefly mentioned without much context. Even now, it’s hard. There’s so much to process, so much that still feels tangled in ways I can’t yet untangle.

But after facing the same repeated lesson over and over again—the feeling of never quite fitting in, of only managing to squeeze by—I had the realization. Everything finally clicked and no longer did I only see separate moments or pieces of a puzzle. It was then, that I finally saw the whole picture. And realized what it was that was missing along.

Through quiet reflections and conversations that lingered long after they ended, I began to notice something—how perspectives evolve, how understanding deepens when given the space to unfold naturally. And perhaps, without ever realizing it, that space was what I had been seeking all along.

Even in the moments of doubt, the difficult seasons, and the questions that seemed to have no answers, something was shifting beneath the surface. And in the end, I didn’t just make it through—I emerged with a sense of knowing, a feeling that something long overlooked had finally come into focus.

If there’s anything I’ve come to understand, it’s that I move through spaces much like a chameleon—adapting, blending in, shifting without conscious effort. And maybe, in some way, we all do. It’s a quiet, natural instinct, one we rarely notice until we stop to reflect.

As I’ve shared before, we are intricate, paradoxical beings—ever-changing, ever-evolving. Perhaps we are all more multi-dimensional than we realize, shaped by experiences, expectations, and unspoken fears that keep parts of us hidden. Maybe it’s not that we don’t want to be fully open, but rather, we’ve never truly had the space—or even the awareness—to recognize how much of ourselves we hold back. But the beauty of being human is that we are allowed to grow, to adapt, to change our minds, and to discover, piece by piece, the fullness of who we really are.

So, as you move forward on your own journey, remember that the lessons life teaches us aren’t always obvious in the moment. Sometimes, it’s only when we take a step back—when we allow ourselves the space to pause, reflect, and breathe—that the pieces start to align.

And most of all, my hope for you is not just to fit in, but to find the places, the people, and the connections that make you feel at home—where you are not only accepted but truly seen. In other words, may you discover not just belonging, but a be-longing meant just for you.

As we head into the month of March, a new schedule will be shared sometime throughout the week so be on the lookout—it will be through Instagram but it is in the works to add to my website. Meanwhile, a new post will be available next Monday, March 3rd, 2025. I look forward to seeing you then!

As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!

**These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.**