Lesson Seventeen: Don’t Fit In
There is a strange pull inside all of us, almost like gravity, that draws us toward whatever version of normal sits closest to us. Most of the time, we don’t even notice it happening. It starts small: a softened opinion here, a laugh at a joke that’s not funny, a quiet nod even when something inside us says, “That is not who I am. This is not what I believe.” It is not inherently a weakness. It’s ancient wiring. Humans survived through belonging, not isolation, and even now we bend ourselves, often without realizing it, to avoid standing alone. But fitting in is not the same as belonging. Fitting in requires you to change, and if you do so for too long, you end up becoming someone entirely untrue to who you really are or who you wanted to be.
Belonging requires you to be exactly who you are.
My clearest example of this is alcohol. I do not have an addiction issue. I do not crave it. You could take it off Earth tomorrow, and I wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep. I know, right? Every addict has muttered those words. However, I’m genuine when I say that I’ve been fortunate enough not to have my addictive personality manifest with dangerous substances. With alcohol, recently, almost any amount makes me feel terrible. Yet when I am in a social situation where everyone else is drinking, I fold. I feel the pressure to have one, not because I want it, but because being the person who does not drink makes me feel like an outsider. Alcohol is a social lubricant. It’s fun. More laughs are had. Guard rails are dropped. Meaningful conversations are had without fear of judgment in the moment. Yet, I don’t look forward to it. It is ridiculous when I say it out loud because I know the people closest to me would not change their opinion of me based on what is in my glass. And still, I cave. Later, when I feel sick or sluggish or embarrassed from doing something dumb, I feel the weight of it, not just on myself but on what my children might eventually see, absorb, or learn from it. Am I doing long-term harm by participating in something I do not enjoy, just to avoid feeling different for a moment?
That question has become harder to ignore.
This is where the idea of breaking patterns becomes real. If you do not break the pattern, the loop will continue tomorrow. Nothing changes until you decide you are done repeating the same script. Discipline becomes the turning point. The disciplined are free because their choices are not controlled by the moment, or the room, or the pressure around them. The undisciplined are controlled by emotion and impulse. Caving to the environment is nothing more than surrendering your values to whatever noise surrounds you.
When you fit in at the expense of yourself, you are not choosing comfort. You are choosing captivity.
My experience is not unique. People face this in countless areas of life. The parent who overspends to keep up with other families. The person who says yes to every invitation because they fear seeming distant. The person who destroys their health trying to stay camera-ready because gaining a few pounds feels unacceptable. The employee who stays silent in a meeting even when they know the answer. The teenager who changes their personality depending on who they are with. The adult who reshapes their beliefs depending on what opinion is trending. All these choices come from the same place: the fear of being different.
The truth is simple. Fitting in is easy because it asks nothing from you except your authenticity. Being yourself is harder because it requires clarity, discipline, and a willingness to stand alone when necessary. But the moment you stop trying to fit in is the moment the right people start moving toward you. Authenticity does not push people away. It filters your circle. When you stop bending, you stop attracting people who only like the bent version of you.
Maybe the real work of growth is not learning how to blend in more effectively. Maybe it is learning how to stop betraying yourself. Maybe it is finding the discipline to break the loop and finally trusting that your life is strong enough and your purpose meaningful enough that you do not need to change yourself to match the room.
In the end, the compulsion to fit in weakens when you understand that you were never meant to match the room.