Wanderhoney.com

Have you ever walked into a room and felt like you didn’t quite belong? Like there was an invisible wall between you and everyone else—one you couldn’t explain, but could definitely feel?

I know that feeling well. I still feel it sometimes. And it doesn’t just happen in crowded rooms. It happens in conversations, in friendships, in places where you expect to feel seen, but somehow, you don’t.

That quiet feeling of not belonging used to confuse me more than it does now. I wondered if I was just too sensitive—if I needed to try harder, talk more, or fit in better. Over time, I realised it wasn’t really about the room at all—it was about the people. It was about the connection, or rather, the absence of it.

And that realisation changed everything.

I used to love being around people—being part of something, feeling involved. But as I started growing into myself, my lens shifted.

The loud rooms didn’t feel comforting anymore—they felt empty. Conversations became surface-level. The energy felt inconsistent. I started noticing the quiet gap between being present and being real.

And honestly, I just don’t vibe with people as easily as I used to, especially after spending a decade around Westerners, my mindset evolved. I see things differently. I communicate differently. Sometimes, that makes it harder to connect with people from where I came from. The values, the conversations, the rhythm—it just feels… off.

I don’t blend in the way I once did. And I’ve come to accept that maybe….. I’m not meant to.

And so, slowly, I began stepping back.

Not because I don’t care, but because I began craving something real. I no longer want to be in spaces where I have to second-guess myself, feel like I don’t belong, walk on eggshells, or try to earn a place in someone’s life.

I want mutual energy. Mutual respect. Mutual effort.

But not all friendships could meet me there.

And when those illusions broke, it hurt.

It wasn’t just about losing people. It was about realising they were never truly with me in the first place. That some smiles were just masks. That loyalty, for some, was conditional. That truth can be silent—and sometimes, so is betrayal.

I remember talking to my mum recently about this—about the ache of being misunderstood or disliked by people who barely know me, or worse, by those I once trusted. I’m not desperate for approval, but I’m still human. It stings when someone builds a whole opinion of you based on assumptions, gossip, or their own insecurities.

She reminded me, gently but firmly:

“You’ve been through this before. You’ve had people dislike you for no reason, and you got through it. You’ll get through this too.”

She was right. I have. And most days, I do brush it off. But other times, it lingers—especially when the distance comes from someone I once held close. You feel it in the shift of their tone, the cooling of their words, the silence growing louder between you.

Naturally, the mind wants answers.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

And if I did, I’d want to know. One thing about me—I’m deeply self-reflective. I believe in open communication. I value honesty. If I’ve hurt someone, tell me. Let me learn. Let me do better. But I refuse to play the guessing game where people hold secret grudges and expect you to read their silence like a map.

That’s not growth. That’s emotional warfare.

Maybe people have their reasons. Maybe I’ll never know what they are. But I’ve come to a place where I understand—I can’t control how others feel about me. What I can control is how I respond. I can choose peace over chaos. Grace over gossip. Stillness over chasing.

There was a time when I reacted out of hurt. When I’d let emotions take the wheel and say things I didn’t mean, just to be heard. But now, I’ve grown. I no longer chase closure or explanations. If someone wants to walk away without a word, I let them.

Because I know,

Not everyone in our lives is meant to stay.
Not every connection is meant to last.

And that’s okay.

It’s not rejection—it’s redirection. A quiet nudge from the universe reminding you: this isn’t your space anymore. You’ve outgrown it. And you deserve better.

You don’t have to keep proving your worth to people who are committed to misunderstanding you. You don’t have to hold space for those who drain you. You don’t have to shrink to fit into places you’ve evolved beyond.

Instead, give your energy to those who pour back into you. To the ones who show up, who see you, who choose you—not just when it’s easy, but when it’s real.

The friends I have now? They are intentional. Present. Loyal in the quietest, most powerful ways. They speak my name with love in rooms I’m not in. They protect my absence. They root for my growth—even when it changes our dynamic.

That kind of love is rare. And I don’t take it for granted.

So if you’re spending more time alone right now, trust it. Don’t rush to fill the silence. Sometimes that space is where you find your truest self. And when you honour that version of you, the right people will find their way to you, naturally. Authentically. Without effort or force.

Let people go if they need to go.
Choose peace. Protect your energy.
And above all—stay true to yourself.

I’m not perfect. I’m still learning. Still growing. Still healing in quiet ways most people won’t see. But I know who I am. And I’m not interested in proving it to anyone anymore.

I’m just here to be me.

Fully. Freely. Unapologetically.

And I hope you give yourself permission to do the same.

X, Hani. 

If my words made your day, a coffee would make mine.🥰