A large part of why I first set about establishing any kind of childfree community, membership or publication was to hopefully give people a place that they could not only read my words but also engage with each other and build connections with people who were living their lives in a similar way to them.
Obviously being childfree isn’t all we are, just the same as being a parent isn’t all parents are. It’s one part of us and we can have a multitude of other interests, hobbies and passions, but often, all it takes is that initial connection to spark something bigger.
Right from when I was at school, I wasn’t exactly one of the ‘cool kids’ or part of the in-crowd but it didn’t bother me. For context here, you’re dealing with someone who was never part of a sports team, a cheerleading troop, or any club that might have been considered remotely cool. I was however part of gardening club, the choir and the orchestra, I was an altar server at church and did it as part of school mass services too, I competed in the national schools first aid competitions, took part in English country dancing and maypole dancing, I was a prefect, and whilst everyone else was listening to Eminem, I was listening to Alan Jackson.
I was a bit of a nerd (still am) and I knew it, but I wasn’t interested in changing who I was just to get certain people to like me, and if I’m honest, I have absolutely no idea where that strength of character really came from. I was just never bothered about what people thought, they could either accept me as I was, or not.
As an adult, I look back and realise that I was probably a prime candidate for being bullied but thankfully I didn’t encounter that. I did however make some great friends, many of whom I still know today, and I didn’t have to have a personality transplant for them to want to spend time with me.
Recently, I’ve come to appreciate that throughout much of my life, I’ve rarely been in situations where I’ve felt like I don’t belong. I was lucky in that sense with family and at school, university and work; and when there was the occasional instance, it was one or two people in any given setting, so it was manageable.
A little while ago though, I got involved in a project I was very keen to be part of, and the first couple of weeks were great but beyond that it quickly became apparent that these were (mostly) not my people. I struggled to find much judgement-free common ground, and it became exhausting to keep trying. It was so strange to feel I was essentially editing myself around this group, not so much in terms of pretending to like or dislike things, but more broadly in just not sharing great swaths of who I am, for fear of judgement.
It was a shame to not continue to be involved because I liked the overall idea but my time with them felt almost claustrophobic, so I had to walk away. There will be other opportunities to take part in similar projects, I just need to find the right people to do it with.
During those months I came to understand that belonging, and not, can run at various levels, some more tolerable than others. Maybe you say you like the latest binge-worthy Netflix series a little more than you actually do, because it gives you something to discuss with colleagues. No real harm done there, and I think we probably all omit or embellish the occasional thing here and there depending on who we’re with. But by not voicing my thoughts and largely remaining very quiet, I’d gone beyond minor tweaks and ultimately denied my own entire existence, which somehow seems far worse.
Fast forward to the start of this year and I was looking for a new job, something that can be a nerve-racking enough prospect at the best of times, but the group from last year was also haunting me. All I could think was, ‘what if I find myself trapped in a job with people who make me feel like that?’ I couldn’t bear the thought of spending the majority of my week having to diminish myself.
I had a few interviews, none earth-shatteringly brilliant or terrible and then after a while of looking, I found myself on a phone interview that was scheduled for 45 minutes. An hour and a half later, the call ended. Next was an in-person interview, also for 45 minutes, and that one ended up lasting almost two hours. I can honestly say that beyond the first ten minutes of that initial call, I never felt nervous because the conversation between us flowed so easily and freely, it was a joy.
My first weeks in my new role have reminded me of how truly wonderful, relaxing and freeing it is when you feel that almost instant connection with people on the same wavelength as you, and it reminds me of how I felt in my very first job after university. I took a finance role as a stop-gap whilst I looked for something more in line with my degree (marketing) and didn’t leave until seven years later. Not because I suddenly developed a burning desire to be an accountant but because I genuinely loved working with those people, and never once didn’t look forward to spending time with them.
I’m grateful to have crossed paths with some fantastic people in various settings, and as strange as it may sound, I’m also sort of thankful for my uncomfortable few months of feeling like I didn’t belong. It’s given me a whole new level of appreciation for how special and affirming it is when you find yourself alongside people who accept you and enjoy the differences there might be between you but can also revel in your similarities.
I encourage you to share in the comments, things that you may previously have felt judgement or exclusion for and maybe you’ll find your people here.
P.S. Caroline Laverick, if you ever happen to read this, I was genuinely disappointed when I found you’d ended your Substack publication. I felt like you were my kind of person. I hope you’re okay.