Last winter my daughter made “team” at her gymnastics gym. I’m not sure if you know this, but it’s kind of a big deal. Because she’s on team, she got to graduate from the recreational and therefore pedestrian red leotards to the fancy ones with sequins on it that also cost roughly one hundred dollars more (but who’s counting). She got to go from random classes with random friends and random teachers to a consistent schedule of classes with the same girls and the same coaches each time. It’s been great for her confidence. It’s been wonderful for her strength. It’s just a great experience and we feel blessed that she gets to take part, at least for now.
The only problem with this whole team experience has honestly nothing to do with her. And everything to do with me.
Because with consistent teammates come consistent team moms. And with consistent team moms come consistent team mom cliques and groups and friendships that I can’t seem to navigate successfully.
For the most part, I don’t have the luxury of staying to watch her practice. I want to, I really do, but if I’m being really honest here, it’s a beatdown. The gym is small, it’s cramped, there isn’t enough seating, it’s hot and it kind of smells like socks. All of which I can endure if I’m solo. The problem is I almost never am. And the boys HATE it there. And they refuse to stay. Not that I let them run the show or anything, but I get it. And we usually are running around doing other things during her actual practice time anyway. So I’m never there.
Which is fine except that all the other moms are. And all the other moms sit together. And chat together. And form friendships together. So now they’re this tight little group. They sit in the same seats each practice and share gym mom life.
And I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. I feel left out.
And I hate it.
I’m just going to throw it out there that I can be terribly socially awkward. I have my people and they are the ones that get me. They’re the ones that I can peg from across the room as my people and know instantly that I don’t have to break through to them, that we’re going to be just fine. They let me be my weird old self and I’ll let them be theirs too. So with them, the few and far between, I’m totally cool.
We all need these people.
With the rest of the world, though, I sometimes don’t know how to act. Especially in situations just like this one. Situations where I want to be accepted and included but am about a day late and dollar short to the scene.
It’s situations like this where I get insecure. And I get awkward. I feel like a strange combo of Stuart Smalley and Mary Catherine Gallagher, giving myself a pep talk about people liking me while simultaneously not knowing what to do with my hands. I babble. I tend to talk way too much about myself and way too little about the other person. I overuse sarcasm and wit as shields against connection.
It’s not a pretty sight.
I want to be clear that these moms have no idea that I am even feeling left out of anything. In fact, I’m in and out of that place so fast I’m not even sure they know I exist. But I still feel like an outsider and like I don’t belong in a group that I want to at least be invited into. I don’t know how to bridge the gap so I just don’t, and then I suffer through a serious case of secret FOMO as self-preservation. Because putting myself out there to make friends with them, well, that’s just asking for trouble. 
Friends, please tell me that I am not alone here.
Why does feeling left out bring out the worst in us? What about being an outsider is so hard for our hearts?
I’m not sure. But I do think that most of us know the feeling, even as well-adjusted adults. It’s acceptance. It’s a craving of the human heart to know and be known, yet still be loved. It’s wanting a mirror, a reflection, something to remind us that we’re human and normal and doing ok. And it’s so natural.
The problem with putting too much weight on this acceptance though, is that if we’re not careful it turns us into something we’re not. I’m not naturally so socially awkward that I can’t connect with people. But put me in a situation where I feel insecure and I’m looking for acceptance, and it’s a given that the worst possible version of myself is going to make an entrance. Even worse, it can cause us to pull back, to retreat. To put up armor and defenses just to preserve our hearts from rejection. It can cause us to cut ourselves off. To never even try in the first place.
And that’s a shame. Because we all need to find our people. And we’ll never get there if we don’t try.
Luckily through the years and the school of social hard knocks that I put myself through, I’ve gotten better at navigating this. I’ve found what acceptance really is with the only one that really matters. God offers that, y’all. What we’ve been searching for all along, He really does. I searched high and low for years for someone to tell me that I am ok, even my darkest parts, and finally found it in the one place that it’s always been. With the one who knows my inner thoughts, my weird quirks, my dark days.
And it’s only from that place of acceptance have I been able to branch out and form true friendships, to find that acceptance here on earth and give it back to others. It’s only through knowing that peace have I been able to take the heat off of other people to tell me that I’m ok and allow them to just be my friend. It’s only through that acceptance that I was whole enough to love the way a true friend loves.
Sure, I’m still working on the awkward part. And, no, I may never become bffs with the gymnastics girls. But hopefully I can be less weird if I do.
And in honor of true friendship, I’m giving you a fun little recipe that one of “my people,” Christy, once dubbed as good enough to smother all over her face. (My people are just as weird as I am. And I love them for it.) It’s such a simple little thing, born from the brain child of wanting to marry my Nutella whipped cream (recipe here) with something a little bit boozy and more mature, perfect for a night with my girls. It’s delicious over strawberries for a simple dessert and is easy to make ahead for dinner parties where you want to be hands off so you can enjoy your night. So easy, so fun, and perfect for “your people.”
Peace, love and friendship,
Meg
PS: I still don’t know what to do with my hands.
Boozy Chocolate Whipped Cream
Ingredients
- 1 cup heavy whipping cream
- 3 tablespoons powdered sugar
- 2 tablespoons cocoa powder
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- 1 tablespoon Irish Cream (or more if you really want it boozy)
Directions
- Step 1 Place all ingredients in a heavy bowl and beat with mixer until whipped cream.
- Step 2 Chill at least 1 hour before serving.
- Step 3 Will keep for 3 days in fridge.
Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.