The Quiet Power of True Belonging
There was a time when I thought belonging meant being accepted. That if I acted right, dressed right, spoke right, needed the right things, I’d be welcomed into the circles I longed for. But as I’ve learned—slowly, and sometimes painfully—there’s a difference between fitting in and truly belonging.
Codependents Anonymous taught me that difference.
In working the 12 Steps, I began the slow process of uncovering the parts of me I had learned to hide. Like many codependents, I adapted to survive—becoming whoever I needed to be to gain approval or avoid rejection. But somewhere along the way, I lost a clear sense of myself. My needs, my voice, even my sense of what I wanted from life became blurred in the effort to stay connected to others.
But connection that requires me to disappear is not connection—it’s captivity.
Step by step, CoDA invited me into a new way of living—one where connection is built not on performance, but on presence. Where boundaries aren’t barriers, but bridges. And where belonging doesn’t require self-abandonment, but self-honoring.
Similarly to CoDA, Brené Brown writes, “True belonging doesn’t require us to change who we are. It requires us to be who we are.” I didn’t believe that was possible at first. But as I worked the steps—particularly Steps 4 through 9—I started to clear away the false beliefs that told me I was only lovable if I was useful, agreeable, or invisible.
Instead, I found that when I began to show up honestly—with my needs, my fears, my desires—I wasn’t cast out. I was met.
That’s true belonging.
Charles Vogl, in The Art of Community, offers a definition of community that echoes the CoDA rooms: “Community is when two or more people share a mutual concern for each other’s welfare.” This sounds simple, but for those of us recovering from codependency, it’s revolutionary. In my old life, I cared for others compulsively, while hoping—silently and resentfully—that someone would care for me in return.
Now, I understand that community isn’t built on rescuing or being rescued. It’s built on mutuality. Interdependence. The sacred give and take of showing up for each other as we are, not as who we think we’re supposed to be.
I’ve experienced this kind of community in CoDA meetings, where honesty is honored and vulnerability is met with compassion. Where no one is above or below another. Where we say, “Take what you like and leave the rest,” because we trust you to know what’s true for you.
That trust is belonging.
Today, I find belonging not just in recovery rooms, but in my life. In friendships where we share both joy and struggle. In a faith community that values wholeness over perfection. In places where I no longer have to earn my seat at the table.
When we face challenging situations with a sense of togetherness and a feeling of true belonging within ourselves, we’re less attached to the outcome. We know we’ll be embraced either way@ (Health Coaching Training Program)—not because we said the right thing or did the right thing, but because we showed up as our whole selves.
That kind of belonging can’t be taken away. It lives inside us, and between us. It’s the quiet power of recovery. The soft strength of being seen, and staying.
And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
