Have you ever done something that everyone around you unanimously said: “Nooo, don’t be stupid!” A decision in your life, career, or business that no one could make sense of? Something unconventional…
I think I’m put together in a strange way. And I don’t even know what I’d prefer more: being able to say that people, in general, are put together strangely, so I’d know we’re all like this… Or the idea that I’m the one who’s different, and others are not, so I could feel special. Special, in my own peculiar way.
How true is it for us humans that we simultaneously want to belong somewhere and stand out, to be different? After all, these days, normality is boring. But how can we stand out if we don’t belong somewhere? You can only stand out from somewhere. And once you’ve stood out, do you still belong? What kind of standing out is it if it hasn’t elevated you enough to leave where you once belonged? And if you’ve truly stood out, doesn’t that mean you now belong to those who also stood out? So now, you’re just like them. But if your goal was to stand out, and you did, but now you’re just like the others who stood out, yet you want to stand out even more—how far do you have to go to be so far removed that no one is left around you? Because you’re so different, so special.
And what’s there at that point? Loneliness? Emptiness?
For me, belonging somewhere is a fundamental need. I crave belonging. A partner. A family. Friends. The sense of belonging gives security, self-worth. Isn’t it great when your favorite café knows exactly how you like your coffee? You feel like it’s your place. Maybe I don’t even need to elaborate on this—it’s within us. That feeling of warmth, relaxation. Maybe even a little smile crept across your face just now, reading this, as that inexplicable soft warmth passed through you. It feels good to belong. It’s good because it means you’re not alone. Yet that feeling of being alone can hit you so mercilessly, out of nowhere. After a conversation where no one really heard you. When someone doesn’t say hello back. When they mock you for what you bought, who you voted for, how you dress, your hairstyle, or just… you.
And in that moment, they take away a small piece of your belonging. And those who say it together? They know they belong. You freeze, feel a little dead inside, and maybe you want to run away. Do you run? Maybe. Or you go back among them. Back to where you weren’t really anyone and try again. Maybe you’ll buy a new car if you can afford it. If you want to fit in badly enough, maybe along with the car, you’ll take on some debt and a few crappy years. But maybe then they’ll say, “You’re cool, man.” So, maybe you’re kind of in, maybe kind of not, but you’re already relieved they’re not criticizing you. Maybe, you even start criticizing someone else, and if you’re lucky, they’ll join you in it. Congrats, you’ve arrived. That’s how it was in kindergarten. But now you’re over 40. Don’t stand out—it’s not good, it’s noticeable.
But you’re different.
Am I different? I like doing things differently. I think that’s another fundamental need of mine. Maybe I think differently. Maybe I see opportunities in different things. Maybe I make different decisions in my life. I want to do something that not many people are doing. I’m not interested in conventional, risk-free business ideas. I seek out the new. I love discovering opportunities and trying to make the most of them. I love doing everything differently. Saying things others don’t dare admit to themselves. Making people think.
Why this big desire to be different? What does it give me? I understand what belonging gives, but being different?
Do I want to show myself?
Of course, I do. If I didn’t, would it be reasonable to expect anyone to notice me? This is probably one of the foundations of belonging, isn’t it? For thousands of years, women have been painting themselves—and now, men are doing it again. We like nice clothes, beautiful cars, great bags. Anything that, when noticed, draws attention to us. Maybe that’s how I, we, know we exist. I want to be seen. To be acknowledged, talked about, respected. I want people to say, “Wow, you’re talented, smart, capable.” That, “You did a great job!” That people want to talk to me, ask for my help. Is that strange?
And what does it give me?
Validation of my existence within the community. It boosts my self-esteem. It expands my network, strengthens my social position. It opens up career opportunities, brings knowledge, and maybe leads to inner satisfaction. That sense contributes to improving my quality of life.
Is that what standing out gives?
Hm. Not always. Maybe the best kind of standing out is when you’re like others, just a little better at something. Just a little. Better. And only at one thing. That little difference and that one thing should be something that those you’re standing out from can understand. Because if they don’t, then you’re not standing out—you’re just weird.
Does it matter?
Well, there’s the question! Of course, it matters—belonging is perhaps a much older need than standing out. Though the alpha male also had to be different from the others, or he couldn’t have been alpha. But even the alpha needed to be an alpha somewhere. So, it might be fair to say that the need to belong is stronger—if not older—than the need to stand out.
Let’s stick to the topic.
What happens if you’re so different that people don’t understand and criticize you? Because when someone doesn’t understand something, to protect their self-esteem, the solution is to think you’re the stupid one, not them. Does it hurt? Of course. Does it influence your decisions? Will you change what you’re doing? Will you stick with your idea? What’s the outcome? When will you be proven right? When you manage to do it and succeed?
Now that’s something bold to try! There’s less of that. Let’s assume you tried, and it didn’t work out. Then you’re definitely stupid because everyone told you in advance: don’t do it! But you didn’t listen. It’s hard to come back from that.
But what if you did it? You succeeded. That proves something. You were bold, brilliant! History is written by the victors.
But does success make it all okay?
Sure, you’re successful. You fought to be different, to not be like the others. Better at something. And then comes the big statement: “You had it easy.” What? And you just sit there quietly, drinking your beer. Despite the success, despite being better at something, you realize it doesn’t hinge on all that.
So, what’s the right path?
To be like the others? To be different? Can you be different, and if so, how much? How do you belong somewhere if you’re different? I don’t know. I don’t have the answer. I’m swimming in this right now.
This article was originally published on vendler.hu.