For a long time, I thought belonging meant fitting in.
The two seemed interchangeable. If I could just figure out how to blend in a little better, communicate a little better, or be a little less awkward, then maybe I would finally feel comfortable wherever I went.
So I tried it everywhere: in school, at work, in social settings, and in community spaces.
Growing up, there always seemed to be a set of unspoken rules that everyone understood except me. People somehow knew when to jump into conversations, how to navigate group dynamics, and how to read situations that felt confusing to me.
Meanwhile, I felt like I was constantly playing catch-up.
I became a pretty good observer. I watched how other people interacted and did my best to mimic that. If something worked for someone else or if a certain personality trait seemed to help people fit in, then I needed to try it.
Looking back, I spent a lot of time trying to become the version of myself that I thought other people wanted.
The funny thing is that from the outside, it probably looked like it was working.
I did well in school.
I made friends.
I held jobs.
But internally, I always felt like I was working much harder than everyone around me.
I didn’t know why.
Then, at age 20, I was diagnosed with autism.
The diagnosis didn’t magically answer every question I had about myself, but it did provide something I desperately needed: context.
Suddenly, so many experiences made sense.
For the first time, I wasn’t looking at my struggles through the lens of personal failure. I wasn’t lazy, broken, dramatic, or not trying hard enough.
My brain simply worked differently.
That realization changed a lot for me.
Not overnight, but little by little, I started giving myself permission to approach things differently.
I stopped forcing myself to communicate exactly the way everyone else did.
I stopped assuming that if something was difficult for me, I just needed to push harder.
I started paying attention to what actually worked for me instead of what worked for other people.
In professional settings, that has meant learning how I process information best, how I collaborate best, and what kind of environment helps me thrive.
In community spaces, it has meant showing up as myself instead of showing up as a carefully edited version of myself.
And in my personal life, it has meant extending myself a lot more grace.
For years, I thought success meant becoming more like everyone around me.
These days, I think success looks a lot more like understanding myself and working with who I am instead of against it.
I still don’t fit every space.
Honestly, I don’t think I’m supposed to.
But I’ve learned that I don’t need to fit every space to belong somewhere.
And that’s a lesson that has given me far more peace than all those years of trying harder ever did.
Funny enough, this reflection started with a single quote for a #AutisticVoices series on Instagram. Sometimes a few sentences turn into an entire blog post.
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