When Belonging Requires Self-Abandonment, It Is No Longer Belonging

Julie Jewels Smoot

Oct 13

6 min read

A woman sits on a rock, gazing at a serene sunset, surrounded by signposts labeled "People Pleasing," "Self-Abandonment," "Trying to Fit In," and "Ignoring My Boundaries," with one pointing to "Choosing Myself," emphasizing the theme of self-acceptance over forced belonging.

There was a time in my life when belonging meant being part of something.

A community.

A practice.

A group of people who shared similar interests, values, and experiences.

I believed that being part of a community meant there would be mutual respect, understanding, and acceptance.

Over time, I began recognizing that belonging and being accepted are not always the same thing.

Sometimes a community welcomes you with words while communicating something entirely different through its actions.

Sometimes the very places that speak about compassion, connection, and personal growth become places where you no longer feel comfortable being yourself.

And sometimes the most important decision you can make is to walk away.

I no longer believe that belonging should require me to abandon myself.

The Difference Between Community and Connection

Community can offer meaningful experiences.

It can introduce us to new practices, new perspectives, and new ways of understanding ourselves.

It can provide opportunities to learn, move, create, and grow.

But simply belonging to a group does not guarantee meaningful connection.

Connection requires more than shared interests.

It requires respect.

It requires the ability to communicate honestly.

It requires recognizing that people have different experiences, perspectives, and boundaries.

And it requires allowing people to be themselves without demanding that they conform to an unspoken set of expectations.

I have learned that being surrounded by people does not necessarily mean feeling connected to them.

Sometimes I feel more connected to myself during a quiet morning at home than I ever did in a room full of people.

When the Body Recognizes What the Mind Is Still Processing

As someone who lives with the effects of trauma, I have spent years learning to recognize how my body responds to different environments.

There are times when I notice tension.

There are times when I become guarded.

There are times when I feel the need to create distance.

These responses are not always evidence that someone is unsafe. Sometimes they reflect previous experiences, uncertainty, or the nervous system responding to familiar patterns.

That is why I have learned to approach these sensations with curiosity.

Rather than immediately dismissing what I feel, I can ask myself:

What am I noticing?

What do I need right now?

Do I want to remain in this environment?

Would creating some distance help me feel more comfortable?

I do not have to make an immediate decision.

I do not have to force myself to remain somewhere simply because I was invited.

And I do not have to ignore my own discomfort to protect someone else's feelings.

Listening to my body is part of listening to myself.

An Invitation Does Not Guarantee Acceptance

One of the things I have learned is that words and actions do not always align.

Someone can tell you that you are welcome.

A community can speak about inclusivity.

An organization can promote compassion and connection.

But those words have meaning only when they are reflected in behavior.

When someone extends an invitation and then responds to your participation by excluding you, it creates a contradiction.

It leaves questions.

It can bring up frustration, disappointment, and memories of earlier experiences.

I do not need to understand every reason behind someone else's behavior to recognize how it affected me.

And I do not need to keep returning to an environment simply because it once held meaning in my life.

Sometimes the invitation itself is not enough.

I want relationships where respect is demonstrated, not merely advertised.

Walking Away Does Not Erase What I Learned

I have invested years of my life in movement, education, creative expression, and personal development.

Those experiences helped shape my understanding of the body, movement, awareness, and connection.

I can appreciate what I learned without maintaining an association with every community that was part of that journey.

My education remains mine.

My experiences remain mine.

The skills I developed remain mine.

The relationships and experiences that were meaningful at the time do not become meaningless simply because I have moved in another direction.

I can close a chapter without erasing the growth that occurred within it.

And I can recognize that something which once supported me may no longer have a place in my life.

That is not a failure.

It is a choice.

I Am No Longer Interested in Performing Belonging

There is a difference between participating in a community because you genuinely want to be there and participating because you feel obligated to maintain an identity.

I am no longer interested in pretending that I belong somewhere when I know I do not want to return.

I do not need to keep affiliations on my website or social media simply because they were once part of my life.

I do not need to attend reunions.

I do not need to accept invitations.

I do not need to explain why I am no longer involved.

And I certainly do not need to perform gratitude for experiences that also brought disappointment.

I can acknowledge the past without inviting it back into my present.

My history is part of me. It does not get to dictate my future.

Finding Connection Through Creativity

Today, much of my sense of connection comes through creativity.

Through sound.

Through writing.

Through poetry.

Through movement.

Through the quiet moments when I can listen to myself without interruption.

When I sit with my gongs or Tibetan singing bowls, I am not trying to become part of something larger to prove that I belong.

I am creating.

I am listening.

I am allowing the sounds to unfold.

There is no requirement to perform.

There is no expectation that I must produce a particular emotional response.

There is simply the experience of being present with sound.

My work as a Sound Alchemist reflects that philosophy.

Listening First. Nothing Is Required.

I want the people who encounter my recordings to know that they are free to listen in whatever way feels appropriate for them.

They can stay.

They can leave.

They can pause.

They can return another day.

Their participation is always their choice.

That is the kind of invitation I want my work to offer.

Boundaries Do Not Make Me Less Compassionate

Sometimes boundaries are misunderstood as rejection.

Sometimes people interpret distance as hostility.

Sometimes saying no is treated as an invitation to negotiate.

But I have learned that boundaries can coexist with compassion.

I can recognize someone's humanity without wanting a relationship with them.

I can appreciate shared history without reopening a connection.

I can acknowledge another person's perspective without agreeing with it.

And I can decide that an environment is no longer appropriate for me without needing to convince everyone else to make the same decision.

Compassion does not require unlimited access.

Understanding does not require agreement.

And healing does not require reconciliation.

Belonging Begins With My Relationship With Myself

I spent many years exploring what it meant to belong.

Today, I am more interested in what it means to remain connected to myself.

Can I recognize when I need rest?

Can I honor my boundaries?

Can I listen to my body without immediately judging its responses?

Can I allow myself to change?

Can I make choices that reflect who I am today rather than who other people expect me to be?

These questions have become more meaningful to me than whether I am accepted by a particular group.

I no longer need a community to validate my existence.

I do not need an invitation to prove that I matter.

I do not need someone else's approval to recognize the value of my work.

My creativity, my experiences, my boundaries, and my voice belong to me.

And when I choose to participate in a community again, I want that participation to come from genuine interest rather than obligation.

I Can Belong to Myself

Walking away from a community does not mean I have abandoned connection.

It means I am choosing where and how I participate.

It means I am recognizing that my time, energy, and emotional availability matter.

It means I am allowing myself to build a life that reflects my values.

There may still be moments when I feel disappointed by the way people behaved.

There may still be questions that remain unanswered.

There may still be memories that bring up frustration.

None of those feelings require me to reopen a door I have already closed.

I can feel what I feel.

I can honor what I experienced.

And I can continue forward.

I do not have to abandon myself to belong somewhere else.

I can belong to myself.