Tag: outsider identity

As we step into the first light of a new year, many of us reflect on where we’ve been—and where we think we should be. For me, that reflection has long centered on a single question: Where do I belong?

But after six decades of searching, I’ve learned that the answer wasn’t about finding a place or group to fit into—it was about recognizing that my “misalignment” with the world around me isn’t a flaw. It’s a gift.

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Last night, the fireworks outside mirrored the clarity within — sovereignty illuminated at the year’s edge.

From the very beginning, the first message I received from the world was rejection. My birth parents—and eventually siblings and other relations—turned away because of the color of my skin, my gender, and how I looked as a newborn.

I was ridiculed. “Negrita of the mountain!” “Igorota!” (a female member of a northern tribe in the Philippines) were constantly hurled in my direction. Silence was the only response I knew.

The message was clear: you are wrong, you are not welcome. That wound became the silent script beneath everything, shaping my decisions and my endless search for belonging.

I pursued it everywhere: within my family of origin, in friendships, in community organizations, and even in the vision of a home by the sea or in the countryside. Enchanted by romantic verses, rustic dreams, folklore, and the modern cottagecore vibe, I thought happiness and fulfillment could be found in withdrawing to a charming bahay kubo (nipa hut) where everything would ultimately “come together” and “fall into place.” Yet the search acted as a diversion, leading me into misguided decisions influenced more by longing than by reality.

This misalignment feels particularly sharp in the Philippines, where cultural values are rooted in kapwa (shared identity) and collectivism. Community, family, and harmony often take priority over individual needs—and speaking up, asserting my views, or setting firm boundaries earned me labels I heard again and again: mataray, difficult, too strong-willed, too much, uncooperative.

I attempted to diminish myself, to conform to the expected role of womanhood, or how women are supposed to act in Filipino society, especially if I wished to maintain my social circle—putting others before me, suppressing my views, valuing the group’s harmony over my own truth. Yet every concession made me feel empty, as though I were diminishing to fit into a place I was never intended to inhabit.

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In June 2025, a fractured ankle sealed the first lesson. Forced to stop, I stepped away from the condo governance community saga that had drained me for several years—where my efforts to advocate for transparency were dismissed as being “too pushy” or having too high standards. A perfectionist in an imperfect world.

Offering my time and skills as an unpaid committee volunteer to improve our building’s management was misinterpreted by community members as pro‑Board. They failed and refused to see—even appreciate—that my efforts were aimed at improving our entire community’s living situation.

That rupture was more than physical—it was ceremonial. It showed me how deeply my rescuer reflex was tied to an unmet childhood need for approval, and how much of my life had been driven by trying to prove I deserved to belong.

*****

It is not my job to correct pseudo-authorities or educate the unwilling. My role is to name truth and protect my space.

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In November 2025, a trip to Los Baños, Laguna, shattered the last of my illusions. I wrote about it in The Los Baños Threshold: The Mirage of the Cottage Sanctuary. Standing in a place I’d once imagined as my “cottage sanctuary,” I saw clearly how the myth of belonging had kept me from my truest self. A sudden confrontation with the divide between the myth and the reality of that idealized life shattered the illusion completely.

I finally understood: There is nothing fundamentally wrong with me. I am simply different. An outsider.

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I am no longer the woman who doubts or backs down in the face of deflection or condescension. Sovereignty is embodied now.

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I have always identified as an extroverted introvert, but learning about the “otrovert” in Rami Kaminski’s The Gift of Not Belonging: How Outsiders Thrive in a World of Joiners, gave me language for what I’ve lived all along. Otroverts thrive not by joining, but by standing apart—creating, discerning, and contributing from the margins.

As an otrovert, I am not a joiner, and that is not a flaw. It is a gift.

I know labels can become cages, reducing complexity to shorthand. But for me, this framework is about sense‑making—not diagnosis. It helps me depersonalize what I’ve carried, broaden my understanding of how identity and culture intersect, and cultivate compassion for both myself and the world I navigate.

*****

Real healing is being seen, heard, and validated by myself. External approval is welcome and appreciated, but incidental.

This awareness is my doorway into cronehood. I look forward to spending my sunset years not in pursuit of fleeting belonging, but in lasting peace and quiet joy. I leave behind false teachings, misaligned choices, and unhealthy patterns—rescuing, compulsiveness, martyrdom—that shaped my past decades.

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The rescuer, the self‑doubter, the validation‑seeker — all sent off with one‑way, non‑refundable tickets to Pluto.

My new year begins here: not in escape, not in external community, but in the sanctuary of myself.

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Being different is not a flaw. It is clarity. It is sovereignty. It is me.

And when I hear “This Is Me” from The Greatest Showman, I recognize my own declaration:

The Greatest Showman Cast – This Is Me (Official Lyric Video)

In future posts, I’ll explore how the rescuer’s trap, compulsiveness, and martyrdom hooks all tie back to this gift of not belonging.

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I step into the new year with gratitude for discernment, clarity, and the spiral of healing — carrying less noise and more trust.

~~~ Mantra Seal ~~~

I am home.
I am my sanctuary.
I belong to no one but me.
This is me. I am free.

As we step into the new year, please allow yourself a moment to reflect:
Where have I been shrinking to fit in?
Have you been chasing belonging in places or groups that don’t honor who you are?
Have cultural expectations or family norms made you feel like you’re “too much”—or not enough?

If any part of this speaks to you, I invite you to share your reflections in the comment section below.

Wishing everyone joy, health, and fresh beginnings! Happy New Year!!!

Peace and Blessings,
— Thea 💙