I grew up feeling slightly outside of things. Even as a kid, we moved around a lot, so I was always the new one, new school, new friends, new area, trying to pick up how people spoke, what they did, what was “normal” there. My parents are Scottish, so I had a Scottish accent when I was younger. When we moved to England, I became very aware, that how you speak affects how people see you. We were working class, my mum was a single parent, and I understood that a strong accent could close doors, especially in interviews or anything formal. So I changed how I spoke. I made it more neutral, less easy to label. I’ve always hated being put into a box. My background is mixed, my experience is mixed, and it never lined up neatly. I was told I was Scottish, but then called a “Sassenach” if I didn’t fully get something culturally. There was this pressure to fit somewhere, to belong somewhere, and I never really felt that I did. Moving around made it more obvious. When you’re new, people see you as different straight away. You’re not one of them, you’re the outsider. That in-group, out-group thing follows you without anyone needing to say it out loud. After university, I worked in a mortgage company. I remember sitting on the bus home, looking at rows of identical houses, people cleaning their cars, doing what looked like the standard version of life. Earn, buy, upgrade, compare. That whole “keep up with the Joneses” mindset. And I remember thinking, I don’t want that. It felt narrow, like there was only one script and you were expected to follow it. I also never wanted children. I tried to understand it, spoke to people about it, but I didn’t feel it. And that made me question myself, because everyone around me seemed to want the same things, marriage, kids, a conventional purpose. When you don’t want that, you start to wonder if something’s wrong with you. Then I moved to Spain, Hungary, and finally Italy. Living in different countries gave me distance. I could start to see what was actually me, and what I’d just absorbed from wherever I happened to be at the time. I could take what felt right and leave what didn’t. It helped me separate myself from everything around me. So in one way, I feel lucky. I got to understand who I am outside of social conditioning. But there’s another side to it. When you never fully belong anywhere, you get used to being on the outside. In Spain, I made a big effort to fit in. I watched the same programmes, learned the references, tried to get the humour so I could feel included. In Italy, I didn’t push that as much. I focused more on politics, institutions, observing how things worked. By that point, I’d mixed so many influences that it became obvious, I’m not going to fully fit anywhere. And I think I had been moving, at least partly, looking for that feeling of home. But each move added another layer, and ironically, took me further from it. Living as an outsider is hard, but it also gives you something. You see things other people don’t question. You ask what does this mean, does this even make sense? That links to authenticity. There’s always been a pull between being myself and being acceptable. I don’t like giving neat answers about where I’m from, because they’re not true. But people want simple categories. And when you don’t give them that, it can make them uncomfortable. My half-sister once asked why I couldn’t just give a straightforward answer. But to me, that feels like lying. I value being real too much. At the same time, professionally, you have to adapt. You filter, you adjust, you play the game enough to move forward. So you’re constantly managing that gap between what’s true and what works. When I started working on emotional intelligence, I got good at controlling my reactions. Staying calm, explaining things clearly, dealing with toxic people without getting provoked. More recently, I realised I’d gone too far with that. In controlling everything, I was holding myself back as well. I am a passionate person, and sometimes that needs to come out. When I started allowing that again, even in a light or playful way, it felt like pressure being released. It felt more like me. So now it comes down to balance. How do you stay real, expressive, emotional, and still use your communication skills properly? How do you not lose one side while using the other? Sometimes I don’t want to analyse or filter anything. I just want to react. To be unfiltered for a moment. I’m caught in a constant balancing act: Being myself versus being accepted. Belonging versus being on the outside. Using skill versus just being. Which is why I need spaces where I don’t have to hold back. Where I can just say what I think, as it comes, without adjusting it first. If you see yourself in my story then get in touch. These are exactly the type of issues I like do help people with in my coaching practice. Some questions to think about: Where in your life are you adapting so much that you are starting to lose yourself? Are you following societies values to fit in or be acceptable, or your own? What would happen if you were more true to yourself? This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit persefonecoaching.substack.com/subscribe