I grew up in a small town just up the road from the middle of nowhere. It was a fine enough small town to grow up in but, much like other towns, there was an established social structure. It may or may not have been spoken about, I was a child, so I do not know, but you learned early on that it existed and that you respected it. If you did not have a certain name, if your family did not own a business, if you did not look or dress a certain way, if you did not fit into a small set of categories, then you were not a part of “The Group.” I do not know what “The Group” did that was so special, but that specific group was simply better than all the other groups. I do not recall anyone ever rising up the ranks (terrible analogy) and joining “The Group” but I do remember people who had previously been welcomed becoming an outsider of the “The Group.”  I am guessing those people somehow made “The Group” look bad.

In 4^th grade, my family moved away for just one year and I went to a private, Catholic school. I was told by neighbors in our trailer court that it was nice to wear uniforms to school because everyone dressed the same, but shoes and jewelry would give it away as to how much money your family had. I was instructed to never tell people where I lived because it would be embarrassing if anyone found out that I lived in a trailer house and took the bus to school. Whether this was real, or the opinion of a jaded middle school neighbor, I feared being rejected because of the house we lived in and the shoes I wore.

By 6^th or 7^th grade I remember knowing that I was not as good as “The Group.”  I compared myself to them. I felt less than them. I never felt good enough because I did not fit in. I think I would have done almost anything to be one of them. In those moments of adolescence, “The Group” became my inner voice. It was about your name, your income, your clothes, your job (or in this case, your parent’s jobs). In those moments, being the completely normal, self-centered, egocentric pre-teen that I was, I thought it was all me and I thought I was the only one. It was all my fault and I had done something inherently wrong. I was born into the wrong family. We were poor by most standards. I had unruly, fiery red hair. I thought I was fat (I now wish I were as fat as I was when I thought I was fat as a teenager). My clothes were mostly second hand and hand-me-downs. From a purely socioeconomic standard, I could understand why I did not fit in “The Group” but I longed to be accepted. I had amazing friends (many of them lifelong) and we had the best time, but “The Group” always loomed as the standard.

As an adult, I have had conversations with friends and classmates and have realized that many people felt the same way growing up where we did. And yet others from elsewhere had felt the same way in their respective towns or schools. It is a strange thing, those grossly designed social structures.

My senior year of high school rolled around, and my family moved again. I had to start over in a new school for the last year of high school. I was sad to leave my amazing friends, not sad to leave “The Group,” and fearful of what “The Group” at the next school would be like. Well, because we were new and had no previous ties to that community, I felt like a shiny new toy (another terrible analogy). No one cared what my family made or did or our name. People just treated me like the new girl who they had not gotten to know yet. It was fabulous. I got to be me. I am sure eventually the shine would have worn off and I would have identified “The Group,” but before that happened it was time to go to college. At college, we were all in the same position, away from home, unknown to most anyone, and figuring out adulthood. Another fabulous experience. I got to be me. We had the freedom to show our true selves and find our own groups not “The Group.” We got to find the people that fit us and honored who we were and more than likely did not care what shoes you wore as long as they could run fast when the cops showed up at the underage party.

I can not say that I noticed “The Group” again until after college when I started settling into a community, a job, and a routine. “The Group” is not as obvious, or it is easier to ignore, in larger towns but it sure has a strong vibe in smaller towns.

As an adult, “The Group” hits differently. At least for me, it is less of the standard and more of the inner voice. The voice that tells you over and over that you are not enough, you do not have enough, you do not fit in. That voice is so annoying! That voice is outdated. That voice is based on ridiculous social standards that were established by insecure adults who passed on their behavior to their children which then infiltrated the day to day lives of everyone it touched. I did not know the phrase “keeping up with the Joneses” when I was younger, but I do now, and the Joneses are unhappy and broke. Maybe not all of them, but I think a good chunk. I have spent time in “The Group.”  It felt awesome. And it was exhausting. The food is fancy, but it I much prefer home cooking. The clothes look amazing, but they are not comfortable. The lifestyle looks like something to envy but it is expensive and burdensome and time consuming. It ends up feeling very shallow and disingenuous.

I spend a lot of time observing. I think it is an unspoken requirement of having a degree in psychology. I watch people. I study behavior. I analyze interactions. And I have learned so much about these social structures and “The Group.”  The biggest thing that I have learned is that most people in “The Group” are behaving the way they are because they do not feel adequate, and they are silently competing with someone else in the group for some type of invisible award. Secondly, as I indicated before, many of them are broke. They spend money they do not have or wrack up their charge accounts to feel adequate. Lastly, a lot of the connections within “The Group” are superficial. They feel real. They feel like the best friends you will ever have, but they are the just the best friends you will ever have while you are offering what you are offering. Ugh! That all sounds so gross to put down into words.

The reason for this ramble? I managed to have some adult self-centeredness (not the first and probably not the last) and realized that I am not the only one who feels this way even now. A friend mentioned a concern they had about “The Group” in a small town and how it affects employment and their comfort in networking. I had another friend indicate that they were not sure of who their real friends were because lines get blurred between personal and professional. Is it a lifelong battle? Likely, yes. Is it irritating and unnecessary? Completely, yes! Where do we draw the line and cut the crap? Why do we insist on making life complicated?

I do not have the solution. Societal constructs are far too deeply intertwined for me to suggest a way out. However, I do have a path to peace. Start giving yourself a new inner voice. Find a mantra that is more fitting than the old one designed in childhood. You are beautiful and wonderfully made and perfect just as you are. “The Group” does not define you (whatever “The Group” is to you), they are not the standard, they are not better than anyone. No one is better than anyone, that also includes you (and me). That may seem shocking to hear. Just love your life. Be kind to everyone but know your boundaries. Find your group. Hold onto your loyal friends no matter what their job or income or house size. If you find someone who makes you laugh or you enjoy their company like no other, and they are poor or rich or somewhere in the middle, what matters is that you enjoy their company. Fancy fabrics may look amazing, but have you tried stretchy pants? That inner voice may be hard to silence but you can speak louder, and you can know that you are worthy. You are worthy!

I long for a day where our children will grow up unaware of unnecessary social standards put in place by insecure adults.