There’s a strange kind of loneliness that creeps in when you're surrounded by people but feel like you're watching life through a foggy window. Everyone seems to know what they’re doing. Everyone seems to belong. Except you.

At least that’s what it feels like sometimes, right?

I’ve sat at the table and wondered if I deserved a seat. I’ve walked into rooms and immediately started scanning for the exits, convinced I was an accidental guest at someone else’s party. I’ve questioned whether I was smart enough, interesting enough, beautiful enough, enough to be there—wherever “there” was.

But here’s the thing: That inner voice? The one whispering that you’re a fraud? It’s a liar dressed up in your own fears.

So let’s pause for a second.

Let’s ask the uncomfortable questions:

Who taught you you needed permission to exist loudly?

Who convinced you that value must be proven before it can be felt?

When did you start outsourcing your sense of worth?

Because somewhere along the way, many of us started believing that belonging was a prize for performance. That if we just tried hard enough—were successful enough, kind enough, quiet enough, tough enough—we’d earn the right to take up space.

That’s bullshit.

You belong here.

Not because you checked every box or followed the invisible script.

Not because you’re perfect or polished or perpetually okay.

But because you are a person, and that is reason enough.

Let me say it louder for the overthinkers in the back (yes, I’m talking to myself too): You don’t need to become anything else to be worthy of belonging. You already do.

There’s no secret formula. No elite club. No final boss of self-worth to defeat before you’re “allowed” to feel at home in your own life.

I know it’s hard to believe. Especially if, like me, you’ve spent years proving your value in systems that reward burnout and self-abandonment.

Especially if you were taught to shrink so others could shine.

Especially if you got really good at betraying yourself quietly.

But here’s what I’m learning (and re-learning every day):

Belonging doesn’t start with being accepted by others.

It starts when you stop rejecting yourself.

So today—just today—what if you didn’t apologize for existing?

What if you stopped hustling for scraps of approval and started giving yourself full meals of grace?

What if you could sit with your whole self—the messy, brilliant, scared, evolving version of you—and say: I see you. I’m not leaving. You belong here. Even now. Especially now.

You don’t need to be more.

You don’t need to be less.