Then came that afternoon in my sister Robin's kitchen. She confronted me about Christmas, saying I'd been judgmental about our cousin Pat - he was pre-diabetic but kept eating all the sweets. I explained I wasn't judging, I was concerned. But she insisted I was being judgmental.
Instead of defending myself, I felt tears coming. I looked at her and said the truth I'd carried for decades: "You know, I have never felt like I belonged in this family."
"You do belong here, Re Re," she said.
Those five words changed everything. Years of wondering if I was too much, too different, too opinionated - all of it came pouring out.
This one statement of vulnerability changed our relationship. I feel closer to her and I feel now that she really gets me.
But here's what I realized: I had spent decades waiting for someone else to tell me I belonged instead of knowing it for myself. That was one of the stories that had been playing on repeat in my mind, driving my second-guessing, my people-pleasing, my constant need for validation.
When I finally understood that "I belong" story, it helped me to stop performing and stop waiting for permission. I began speaking up when I had something to say. I started trusting my instincts about people. I made decisions that honored who I was instead of who I thought I should be.
That's what I want for you. Not just the knowledge that you have everything you need, but the deep, unshakeable trust in yourself that makes it impossible to doubt.