Feeling like an outsider in a world of insiders? Embrace it

A dear friend reached out recently and asked if I ever had the feeling that people simply didn’t understand what I was trying to say. The example stemmed from a meeting where she was discussing ideas and got blank looks all around.

Many of us can relate — I know I can.

We all have moments where we feel that others simply don’t get what we are trying to say or do: they just don’t get us. I’ve had those sorts of feelings my entire life. It’s that sense of being alone in the crowd or an outsider in a world of insiders.

It’s only with age — and the accompanying wisdom that comes with it — that many of us come to accept it as not only OK, but embrace the solitude of finding oneself. In fact, if you’d had these feelings it’s probably a good indicator that you’re an original thinker.

There’s a quote attributed to Albert Einstein that sums it up: “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing its stupid.”

Although some dispute whether he actually said those words, that’s not the point. It’s about embracing and recognizing the uniqueness in each and every one of us. The key is finding yours. It’s part of the journey, if it’s not THE journey.

Growing up, I never felt like I fit in anywhere: I was a quiet, good-hearted kid who wanted to be a writer (and centerfielder for the Yankees) growing up in a gritty, blue-collar town where you’d find a lot of young kids dreaming of becoming firefighters, cops and constructions workers … He must be gay, a few friends actually said (on the writing, though I’m sure a few 12-year-old Mets fans thought the same about the Yankees). What’s more, I didn’t know any writers. Not one.

And when we spent our summers in a modest home the Hamptons, I was the working class kid. I remember one co-worker at a private tennis club (actually, the son of a member) asking me frankly, how can you afford to live here, as if to say, you don’t belong here. Clearly, I didn’t feel like I fit in there either.

There are many more examples — too many to bore you with — but it took decades to embrace and understand my own ironies and to learn to be grateful for them. They make us who we are.

I see it now as a father. My son sometimes struggles in school, and he gets down on himself. But to see him solve a cube in seconds is a work of art. He says he can see all the algorithms, to which I note that I could live 200 years and never once solve a cube unless I smashed it with a hammer and glued it back together. Even then, the cube and those algor-thingies might end up in the trash in a thousand pieces. (Watch him solve the cube here: IMG_4988 )

Again, he’s finding his own genius. It’s a painful and beautiful process all in one.

Recently, I joined a yoga class that was initially marketed to women. But I liked the practice of movement, breadth work and empowerment, so I asked the instructor: are men welcome? Of course, she said, adding that it was important to have masculine energy in the class as well.

My younger self would have walked away, feeling like an imposter and eventually succumbing to my fears of making the so-called easy pose look so hard. I’m so pleased I stuck with it; it’s been a game-changer. 

Walking away is easy — I know this because I’ve spent many years doing precisely that; letting my fears and insecurities win over me. Walking through those (virtual) doors and embracing the fear is where the growth happens.

Go where there is fear. Go beyond your comfort zone. Embrace it all.

Nowadays, I know fear and insecurity often serve as a welcome mat: Go where there is fear. Go beyond your comfort zone. Embrace it all.

You may find yourself at home wherever you are.