The Anatomy of Belonging
BEING IN THE LONGING FOR CONNECTION
F. Scott Fitzgerald
You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”
Story
By the time the fifth person told me they were scrubbing their organization’s website for words that might offend the government, I finally looked it up. Sure enough, I found a New York Times article naming a list of words to be flagged as a threat. If they appear in a grant or on a nonprofit website, funding could be withdrawn. As I scanned the list, I saw numerous words that identified me, my profession, and my beliefs. One word jolted me more than the rest: belong.
How could something so human be seen as a threat? As a Human Development Counselor, I know belonging to be as natural for humans as drinking a glass of water. From the moment we are born, we reach out to connect and attune. It is part of our basic survival skills - to reach out and be received. Compassion, safety, being witnessed, feeling valued—these are the essential ingredients of belonging. And when we truly, freely, experience them, we grow.
Think of a seedling becoming an oak tree. With sun, rain, and wind held in a fertile habitat, the tree thrives. True belonging is that container for us—a place where we can experiment, play, be, and thrive.
But today’s world is flooded with false belonging. Manipulative, dangerous, narcissistic forms of belonging. The kind where you must trade something—your safety, your voice, maybe even your whole self—just to get in. False belonging steals autonomy and shrinks potential. These are relationships and communities where they entice us to join through bestowing a “chosen one” promise of being special, but we know deep deep down they use people, and we could be kicked out at any moment. It breeds fear of deviation, until trust in ourselves erodes. Dependency replaces interdependency. Reciprocity dissolves. And suddenly, our worth and well-being feel contingent on an outside force—often a pain-blinded, ego-driven human.
Do the Experiment
This reflection led me to dig deeper into what belonging truly means to me. I began making a list of the moments in my life when I felt it most strongly—so I could start to understand the anatomy of belonging.
Running through a field with my aunt searching for fairies.
Laughing hard in late-night dress rehearsals with my high school theatre group.
Exploring the Louvre with new friends.
Holding my husband’s hand as sunlight beamed through the gothic church and landed on us as we shared vows.
Meditating with a group of strangers at a retreat in the Hudson Valley.
Resting on a mothertree in Stanley Park.
Coffee with my Accountability Group (sounds boring, but we’re really fun)
Feeling the full-body embrace of my child as we watch the sunset over the ocean.
Each memory carried the same thread: the unmistakable experience of being seen, safe, and connected. In those moments, I felt deeply at home in myself, my people, our planet - like I inherently belonged.
But what struck me most wasn’t just what was on the list—it was what wasn’t. The many times I tried to blend in, to shrink, to adapt so I wouldn’t be “too much” or “not enough.” Belonging that demanded I hide parts of myself never left me whole.
Which raised the deeper questions: What is belonging, really? Why does it heal in some contexts and harm in others? What are its layers—its anatomy?
We are Wired for Belonging*
Humans are wired for belonging—the deep ache to be part of something larger than ourselves, while also feeling whole within ourselves. Neuroscience shows that even in infancy, our brains are shaped by connections. Eye contact, touch, and attuned caregiving build the circuitry for resilience, empathy, and compassion. Behavioral epigenetics even suggests that nurturing environments can influence how our genes express themselves—laying the groundwork for social bonding and emotional regulation.
The very roots of words like belong and togetherness point to more than social proximity. Belonging has always meant alliance, deep connection, and a sense of fitting with others. More deeply, belonging is medicine. It supports mental health, reduces stress, strengthens immunity, and lengthens life. Even simple shared moments—reading, cooking, laughing together—remind us that connection is woven into our humanity.
When it’s missing, the consequences are devastating. Loneliness isn’t just sad—it’s dangerous, linked to depression, cognitive decline, chronic illness, and even mortality at levels comparable to smoking or obesity. Social psychologist Geoffrey Cohen writes that we’re in a “crisis of belonging,” with about one in five Americans experiencing loneliness intense enough to threaten their well-being.
To explore the evidence-based impact of longing, relating, and connectedness is to see the truth: belonging has always meant being in something together—a shared experience, a place where we are safe, seen, and valued. When this kind of community power is generated, we lower our divisiveness and look for ways to strengthen our bonds of humanity. As Governor Andy Beshear told us daily during the recent pandemic, "We will get through this, and we will get through this together.”
True and False Belonging
Here’s the paradox: belonging itself isn’t automatically good.
In the early part of my career, I remember a day when this paradox hit me hard. I was working at a community mental health center in Little Haiti, “on the other side of the interstate” in Miami. One afternoon, I found myself sitting quietly along the wall of a fluorescent-lit room, its folding chairs arranged in a circle on the tile floor. I had been invited to observe a men’s therapy group made up of young men working to leave gang life behind.
As a white, privileged woman fresh out of Vanderbilt, I couldn’t have felt further from their world. I had been told to sit respectfully in the back, to avoid eye contact, and not to speak. So I did my best to blend into the wall and simply listen.
At first, the stories I heard shocked and scared me. But the more I listened, the more I felt our shared humanity. Beneath every story and every choice was the same deep desire I knew in myself: the need to matter, to be seen, to have a place. What they named as cruelty was not the absence of belonging, but the staggering cost of it. Their gang had given them loyalty, identity, and protection—but at a devastating price. To belong, they had to carry shame, secrecy, and acts that eroded their very being.
As I sat with their words, I found myself remembering my own early experiences in an evangelical church community. The details were entirely different, but the feeling was familiar—the sense that belonging required obedience, condemnation of others not like us, and the suppression of questions and felt experience. I do remember feeling a deep sense of safety from that community - I knew if a tornado hit our house, every church member would help us out. But I was also aware that if I broke the rules or questioned the beliefs, I wouldn’t be allowed to stay. There, too, love and safety were tied to rules, and stepping outside them meant risking shame and getting kicked out of the garden.
That day, I recognized a painful truth: belonging itself is not always good. Belonging can heal, but it can also harm. When the price of admission is your autonomy, secrecy, shame, or violence (to self or others), we are no longer talking about true belonging.
False belonging always comes at a cost. You must trade something vital to your essence—your safety, your voice, sometimes your entire self—just to stay inside the circle. It feeds on what I call the control trifecta: shame, guilt, and manipulation. False belonging steals autonomy, erodes dignity, and locks us into a pendulum swing between helplessness and over-control—the anxious illusion that we can manage everything if only we tighten our grip. As Elizabeth Gilbert says, “You are afraid of surrender because you don't want to lose control. But you never had control - all you had was anxiety.”
True belonging is different, and it is our birthright. When we were babies just born, shortly after we gasped for air, we reached out to connect, to be held, fed, to feel safe. The people who chose to raise us are meant to gift us with that container—like fertile soil for a seedling—we grow into the fullness of who we are. True belonging preserves dignity and autonomy. It is rooted in transparency, mutual care, and shared responsibility. In true belonging, we are welcomed as our whole selves.
True belonging can take many forms and levels, but the common threads weave throughout: mutual respect, power is transparent, and responsibility is shared. It holds our wholeness with dignity intact.
I return to my list and notice my monthly Heine Bros coffee with my Accountability Group, these amazing women who are also therapists/coaches. With them, I can be my truest, messiest self, and I’m given the benefit of the doubt, compassion, and curiosity, rather than being shut down in fear. In true belonging, we don’t have to perform, prove, or pretend. These moments were a giant hug of relief that allowed me to be fully human and flourish in my potential. And that is what those young men were receiving in their therapy group. I’m forever grateful for community mental health organizations that bring essential care for healing the whole self.
The Anatomy of Belonging
Pause for a moment and call in your own moments of true belonging. What did it feel like? Who were you with? How did you grow? That memory is a compass. It points us back toward what is possible. Identifying positive moments of belonging can help us to feel more confident in how we want to invest our time and energy.
My brain always seeks to know the layers of a concept. I broke down belonging into 3 types to help me understand what I need and want more of—each important, each with its role:
Transactional Belonging
The first layer of belonging is transactional. A school, a gym, a workplace, even a therapy session—these are entry points. We exchange something while staying in alignment with our values—tuition, membership, payment—for access. It is conditional, yes, but it offers structure, safety, and a starting ground.
The question then becomes: what kind of ethics does the group hold? Healthy transactional belonging does not ask us to harm ourselves or others, nor does it seek to control us. Instead, it is a fair, transparent exchange—clear in its power structure and grounded in respect. At its best, this layer can be fertile ground, offering the possibility for belonging to grow into something deeper and more enduring.
Reciprocated Belonging
The middle layer is reciprocated belonging—mutual care and shared responsibility. It shows up in friendships, faith communities, and chosen families. Here, belonging is sustained through presence, commitment, and give-and-take. It carries a shared power dynamic: each person is both giver and receiver, shaping the relationship or community together.
In reciprocated belonging, we experience the steady rhythm of support—offering care when others falter, and receiving it when we do. This kind of belonging strengthens trust and resilience because it gains depth over time and experience together. It is not fragile; it allows room for repair, for making mistakes, and returning to one another. At its best, it teaches us that our presence matters not just for who we are, but for how we show up for each other.
Transformational Belonging
The deepest layer of belonging is transformational. This is where belonging becomes medicine. It welcomes the whole self, restores dignity, awakens compassion, and frees us to flourish. It is not rooted in what we can trade, or even only in what we can give and receive—it is rooted in who we are.
Transformational belonging calls us into wholeness and, in turn, brings back into alignment the parts of us that are wounded or lost. It is a connection and love so profound that it reminds us of our truest, most powerful being.
This deepest layer is also the kind of belonging we can offer ourselves. Every moment we choose to love ourselves unconditionally, we are transformed. And transformation is not the same as changing who we are. It isn’t about becoming someone new, but about unfolding into the fullest expression of who we already are.
Each layer matters. Transactional and reciprocated belonging create conditions that can grow into transformational belonging. And yet, the most essential belonging is the one we give ourselves—the inner circle of unconditional self-love.
The Crisis of Belonging
Today, we are in a crisis of belonging. Language itself is being policed—words like belong, community, even mental health have been flagged as “dangerous” in some public spaces. To strip these words is to strip identity and fundamental safety.
The opposite of belonging is despair, violence, loneliness. Look up the common identifiers of people who commit violent mass crimes, and you’ll find a common factor of feeling an ultimate loneliness - of being an outsider, cut off from resources and community again and again. As a mental health practitioner, I frequently reflect on the ripple effect of being alone in unintegrated pain and how it harms at exponential rates. That’s because all living beings are fundamentally interconnected. What happens across an ocean or in another state, is going to eventually impact us.
When belonging is attacked across an entire culture, disconnection deepens and creates a fear-based divisiveness that takes on a life of its own. And in a culture that already feels lonelier than ever, weaponizing belonging through shame, fear, or exclusion is a dangerous game.
Connection is the Cure
Across traditions, belonging has been symbolized in circles—councils, fire circles, therapy groups, joint hands, dinner tables. The Last Supper was at a table, not a throne. True leadership is about creating spaces where every person is dignified, not diminished. Where belonging does not demand erasure, but honors difference. Take another look at all of the benefits physically, psychologically, and culturally, of healthy, true belonging. We have an opportunity every single day to give this gift to ourselves and others.
I reflect on my weekly circle of high school juniors. We always begin our 8-week sessions the same way, going around the circle with the prompt: “If you really knew me…” The first round usually brings lighthearted shares about pets, favorite foods, or sports. Then I ask them to close their eyes and notice their level of vulnerability—on a scale of 1 to 5—how much they allowed themselves to be seen. When they open their eyes, I invite them to go again, and this time share just a half-point more. The more they practice speaking their truth in a respectful, kind space, the more they connect, even when they have big differences of opinion, background, and beliefs.
They welcome the chance to be safely seen and often reveal something no one else in the room knew. We have a cultivated container for being interested in each other without feeling threatened. Connection can be a cure for so many ailments. When people truly know each other—when they are seen, heard, and valued—they are less likely to harm and more likely to heal. This is the transformative power of belonging.
True belonging never demands that we erase ourselves. It invites us to bring our whole, imperfect selves—without silencing truth or causing harm. And when we are truly seen, we become people who build cultures of care.
An Invitation
A final smile as I finish this piece. I’m remembering a cool, clear sky November day on our family farm in Alabama. I was 7 years old, laughing super hard with my cousin, running, and throwing our bodies into a giant pile of raked fall leaves. My aunt pulled us out one by one, and I remember feeling her big hug while the sun warmed my face. She leaned down and whispered, “Is it time to find the fairies?” We went skipping, running through the field, and I felt so strongly a part of the order of things. A true Wendell Berry moment of feeling settled into this human skin and invited to take up space in the world.
Perhaps belonging is, at its heart, a remembering—a return to the truth that we are already whole, already worthy, already connected. And in a world so quick to erase or distort that truth, choosing to cultivate real belonging—for ourselves, for one another, and for the communities we shape—may be one of the most powerful acts of resistance and love we have.
I invite you to join me in reflecting on your own stories of belonging - to break them down, to feel the components, the anatomy of how you feel a part of the world. And it’s also helpful to notice and grieve all the times you didn’t belong. This honoring of our human experience gives us depth and shapes our inner compass for compassion and keeping our hearts open in a world that desperately needs love.
So grateful to be building a mindful life with you.
May you be well,
Shelly
Concept
I know belonging to be as natural for humans as drinking a glass of water. From the moment we are born, we reach out to connect and attune. It is part of our basic survival skills - to reach out and be received. Compassion, safety, being witnessed, feeling valued—these are the essential ingredients of belonging. And when we truly, freely, experience them, we grow. But what happens when we’re not received, or we exist in false belonging? How do we find our way back to what we need?
Practice
Journal Practice:
Get cozy.
Find your breath and work with it until it feels good and nourishing for your body. Feel your body connected to the surface supporting you. Remember a moment of belonging. Where you felt you could be your true, messy self and you were held in kindness, compassion, curiosity. Try adding a moment of belonging where you showed up in a place and just felt like you belonged. Finally, find a moment you felt at home in yourself. And if that’s hard, notice this very moment where you’re taking time to connect to your inner life. What do you notice? What do you feel? What is the anatomy of these moments? How can you bring more into your life?
Get your tickets!!! Festival of Faiths, one of my favorite things about Louisville, is focusing on Belonging this year. I can’t wait to see you there.
Introducing!!!!! A new monthly mindfulness gathering in Louisville at the Earth & Spirit Center. Starts September!
Registration is open for our fall women’s retreat day!
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*For the sciencey section of this post, I referenced many journal articles. If you want to dig deeper into the science of belonging, I recommend checking this link to the GGSC round up of research. There are several excellent articles that explore the topic further and give you exact studies.