You’re (probably) not an alien

Growing up as an extraterrestrial is not a great recipe for becoming a relaxed, anxiety free adult.

Ever get the sense that you don’t quite belong here? That you’re an outsider, contorting yourself to be accepted by society?

1. The Box

Even as a little kid, I began noticing the signs.

“Hey, boys don’t cry, knock it off and toughen up.”

“That’s your fault for being so sensitive.”

Signs of being different, of not belonging. Of being an alien, accidentally living among humans.

“Why do you always have your nose in a book?”

“We have names for people who don’t know how to talk to others.”

The messages shifted as I aged, but the sense of being from another planet only grew.

“Shouldn’t you be out with your friends?”

“You played video games for sixteen hours straight?! Don’t you have a life?”

I learned there was a Box of Acceptable. If I stayed within that box, I was meeting societal norms. I was fitting in, doing the right things, not surprising anyone, not making anyone uncomfortable. Occasionally I managed to stay in that box. But more often than not I was wildly outside of it.

This could’ve been fine. Could’ve been “Oh there goes Patrick the little box breaker!” But it was an arbitrary box to start with, and I only knew it was there because of the reactions that told me I’d once again stepped outside of it. Every message I got – the raised eyebrows, the scoldings, the unexpected punishments – was a vote for the rising conviction that I did not belong.

But man did I want to belong. I wanted friends that accepted me. I wanted my siblings to play with me. I wanted teachers that welcomed me in the same way they did other students. I wanted my parents to accept and understand me. And every time I did something that kept me on the outside, my sense of being defective – of being alien – grew.

2. Primal Origins

Regrettably, evolutionary psychology was not part of my early primary education. Had it been, I would’ve had some insight into why isolation felt so terrible.

Humans are pack animals. Pre-civilization, we hunted together and found safety in numbers. Separated from the pack, one had a much lower chance of survival, and thus we evolved a fundamental craving to be around others – to be part of a community.

Couldn’t share your cave with others? Eaten by a lion as you slept.

Too annoying to get others to hunt with you? Starved to death.

Couldn’t make friends to go foraging with you? Mauled by a saber tooth as you picked berries alone.

While I may not live in a cave and worry about four legged predators, I sure feel more at ease working at a Starbucks, surrounded by others than I do working at home by myself. Not the most ferocious pack of humans – drinking our frappuccinos while staring at our laptops – but we can glance up at any moment and feel the primal safety that comes with being calmly surrounded by others.

But I didn’t know this as a kid. I wasn’t able to see my desire to fit in as a reasonable, if outdated, biological imperative. I was scared, felt in danger at every instance of isolation. 

Not invited to a birthday party? Won’t have the team I need to go wooly mammoth hunting and get food for the winter.

No one to hang out with at recess? That pack of hyenas is gonna make me their lunch when I’m not looking.

So I did what any smart alien stuck on earth would do. I adapted to fit in.

3. Trash Compacting

To fit into the Box of Acceptable, I took big parts of my personality – what excited me, my strong emotions, my empathy – and tossed them in a trash compactor. It crushed them down into a sad little cube of lost potential. I tucked that cube into a dark corner deep inside myself. 

What remained was what was deemed socially ok for a young boy growing up in the 80’s. Video games, sarcasm, sports, books, being bullied and bullying, anger, stoicism. As I grew, I found being intellectual and smart was generally ok, as long as I didn’t go too far with it. Creativity could be a landmine, mocked as often as it was celebrated. Pretending to be a normal human became a life of constant self-suppression and play acting.

I mostly succeeded. I won the acceptance of teachers through my rule following and intelligence. My parents similarly approved of my deference and neutral, easy nature. I built some friendships based on shared interests. I was making it work, doing my best imitation of being a human.

My facade was intact, but it only functioned if I kept the actual humans at a distance. No way was I going to let anyone in close where they might catch a glimpse of my true nature and run screaming to summon torch and pitchfork wielding villagers. This became painfully real as I began dating and felt both a desperate desire to share my hidden reality with someone else, yet a profound imperative to keep myself hidden lest I be exposed and outcast. Over and over again, I would express a desire for closeness and vulnerability yet run away the moment it was offered.

I entered the workforce, and staying in the Box started to feel easier. I was a good employee, good at keeping my bosses pleased, saying the right things in meetings, being performant but not emotional. Drinking alcohol became not only an excellent way to fit in, but it drowned out the cube and at times allowed me to forget altogether I was from another planet. I still couldn’t maintain a relationship beyond a few months and kept my friends at a distance, but I felt like I was making life work.

I was a success! I was masquerading as a normal human! And it was terrible. Depression, alcohol abuse, self-isolation. Not quite the rewards I had expected for staying inside the Box.

4. Alien Hunting

Let’s try a quick exercise. I call it alien hunting.

This works best in audio format, so if you can listen to the rest of the section, please do. Otherwise, please read through the full exercise once first before trying it out.

Find a spot to sit down. Close your eyes if that helps you relax. Take three deep breaths – slow inhales, slower exhales.

Ask yourself: “What’s a deep-seated truth about me that I’ve never told anyone?”

Continue to sit, breathing deeply, and see what bubbles up. You may get something immediately, or this could take a minute or two.

Pick an answer that brings up some unease in you, or even feels a little scary.

Now imagine sitting down across a table from a stranger and having a conversation in which you share that deep truth with them.

Notice any reactions you may be having in your mind and body. There is absolutely no expected reaction here, but a few things you may be suddenly experiencing could include:

• Muscle or jaw clenching

• Excitement or longing

• A sudden urge to stop reading this

• Chest tightening

• Fear

• Anger or annoyance (at the stranger, or at me for writing this)

Your inner alien is coming to the surface. By imagining revealing something deeply true but withheld, you’re contemplating stepping outside the Box of Acceptable – and bringing up the fear of judgment from others that this could entail.

And if you’re not feeling any reaction to this at all? Perhaps you’re that exceedingly rare individual who has discovered how to live completely as themselves and let go of any fear of judgment from others. Or perhaps give the exercise another try. You may yet find that deep-seated truth hiding within you.

5. Embracing the Alien

I assumed I was a pariah, but I wasn’t. As I was growing up, convincing myself I was an alien and hiding away huge parts of my inner reality – I was surrounded by others silently doing the same.

The Box of Acceptable is so restrictive, so constraining, I would argue no one fully fits into it. We all have parts of us we’re ashamed of and hiding away – and that resulting inner dissonance is a poison. We pretend to be people we’re not, and it eats us up inside.

So what do we do? How can we accept our alien parts, and learn how to show them to the world without being overcome by fear?

Here’s what works for me:

1. Perform the alien hunting exercise described earlier, but look for something minor this time. A small truth that brings up a twinge of fear or uncertainty in you. Something that feels a bit vulnerable to share, but not overwhelming.

2. Choose who you’re going to share this with. Unless you have a very close and caring group, I’d recommend an individual – anyone you feel a spark of kinship or connection with.

3. Decide what kind of communication feels easiest for you. Texting, coffee, a phone call or FaceTime are all potential options. Next time the two of you are chatting, ask if they mind if you share something a little personal. Perhaps mention that it’s something important to you, but feels hard to bring up.

4. Share your truth with them. This can be hard! Remember, that resistance is the alien trying its best to stay hidden. But in all likelihood that person sitting across from you has their own alien inside as well.

I hope whoever you share this with is welcoming and appreciates it. I’ve found most people to be very open to anything that brings a conversation a little deeper, and will often be grateful that you took that first step. By being a little vulnerable, you often give the other person permission to do the same, and over time this can deepen your relationship in some awesome and powerful ways.

But I need to be honest - some people may react in a way you find challenging. They may be so worried about staying inside their own Box of Acceptable that they develop a strong aversion to any sort of vulnerability and ignore or dismiss what you share, or even judge you in some way. This can be extra hard to experience as it can feel like a validation of the dangers of stepping outside of the Box. What helps me most in these situations is reminding myself that this person is really struggling – their rejection of my attempt at connection indicates a primal fright of depth and being seen – something I can have compassion for, and realize has nothing to do with me.

Once I was able to practice these four steps over and over – and began regularly sharing more vulnerable truths – it felt like a dam breaking inside of me. That sad little compacted cube hidden deep within reemerged and my actual, messy, wonderful self began showing up. I spent so much less time and energy worrying about how I might be perceived, and felt so much more confidence in my actual self.

It’s been a hard and at times scary journey of learning how to fully embrace my exiled parts. Yet here I am, at forty-one, finally making some of the best new friends of my life, deepening my existing relationships in all sorts of good ways, and finally truly accepting, deep in my bones, that I belong here.

You may think you’re an alien, but remember – you’re surrounded by people who feel the same way. Try revealing parts of that inner alien to others. I bet you’ll discover you’re not such an outcast after all, but part of society filled with others also craving connection, as long as they won’t be ostracized for asking for it.

Not sure you have a person in your life you can share your inner alien with? We’re planning on writing more on building that kind of connection in the coming months, so please subscribe!

Got another topic you’d like to hear about, or have a question for us? Please leave a comment – we read everything and would love to hear from you.