If we were truly honest with ourselves, we all know what it feels like to sense that we are out of place — like we’re constantly waiting for an invitation to the event, group, or opportunity that will make us feel whole.
If you can’t admit it, I can. I wasted away days of my early twenties waiting for text messages that never came, hangouts I was never invited to, dates I was never asked on, and chances I was never given.
Not that anyone would have known, though. This social butterfly could hide the devastation of exclusion better than anyone.
Thus begins the endless cycle: hoping for an invitation, disappointment when it doesn’t come, and the belief that the next opportunity will fix everything.
I felt alone in moments of solitude and lonely when I was surrounded by people. I could not sit in the presence of my own mind without wishing I had something to distract me from it.
Recently, I was diagnosed with mono. If you’re unfamiliar, essentially, I’m looking at 4-6 weeks of intense fatigue and a massive need for an immense amount of rest. I was fortunate enough that the diagnosis came over the holidays, because I was already given the last two weeks of the year as paid time off.
14 days of forced rest, a majority of it spent in solitude without the energy to do things to distract my mind. Living alone. Unable to run, work out, or walk much more than a mile.
If this had happened to twenty-two-year-old Allie, I would have been OUT OF MY MIND with discomfort. But twenty-eight-year-old Allie? I was thriving.
No feeling that I was missing out, no unease with the quality solo time. I was completely content in my own presence.
So, what changed?
For the sake of my point, please bear with me through an incredibly cliché metaphor. I promise it’s worth it.
Step 1: Stop wishing for a seat at a table that you are not invited to.
Honestly, I got pretty harsh with myself. I was yearning to be a part of communities that I was not desired in. Hurtful, right?
But when I stopped to think about it, why on Earth would I want to be in a space that didn’t want me?
Because truly, if I wasn’t wanted there, that space probably doesn’t align with one of my core values: inclusion. I no longer had a desire to be included in environments that viewed inclusion as a right of passage or something to be earned.
Now, this was not as simple as a few sentences make it out to be. I had to wrestle with rejection (gross) and say goodbye to relationships I once thought I’d grow old with. It stung.
But on the other side of it, I can attest that it’s not worth it. Don’t waste your energy in places where it is not appreciated. It’s too valuable.
Step 2: Create the table you want to be seated at.
Okay, so you’ve said goodbye to the opportunities that are not for you. What are you left with? You.
If you can’t find the table you should be seated at, start building it.
I began by searching my life for the people that I admired. The relationships that made me feel good about who I am and what those individuals had to offer. I asked myself why I was so drawn to them and why I sought out their advice.
What I found: inclusion, vulnerability, accountability, empathy, and forgiveness. I took note of those core values and got to work becoming a person who emulates them. The rest took off from there.
One tangible way this has shown up in my life is through my run club: Hey Bestie, Run! It wasn’t enough for me to just be a person who offers vulnerability; I had to make a physical space for others to show up, be vulnerable, and be accepted.
That is how our all-inclusive, beginner-to-seasoned-runner movement club was born: out of a desire to put these core values into the world through something I love.
And here’s the truth: if I didn’t feel that emptiness of rejection, I wouldn’t appreciate the joy of making myself feel whole and creating the opportunity to invite others into my community.
Step 3: There is always an open seat at your table.
This one is pretty simple. Why would you go through all of this and not move forward with inclusion?
If one cannot find a place in any other space, let them find it in yours. This is your opportunity to be the invitation you wish you had.
I promise that fulfillment will come and belonging will be found in offering others a place to belong.
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