Blogging, Writing

When you feel like you don’t fit in with your Family

Disclaimer: Let me start this post off by saying that this is NOT me trying to bash my family. I am not pointing fingers, nor am I blaming anyone for the way I feel. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s myself. My insecurities, my mind, my problem.

With that said, let’s begin.

fit in
Photo by Copyright 2019 Jordan Antonacci

Whenever I write actual blog posts (and not poems) I always try to provide something for the reader to takeaway: insight, tips, advice, whatever. But for today’s post, I’m going to let the little self-obsessed, narcissistic blogger that I know I am come out to play. I need to vent, I need to rant. I need to ramble on without having to watch people yawn while they pretend to listen to me. You may or may not take anything from this. If so, more power to ya.

I have no idea where to start. Thinking, thinking… Ah, got it!

I was born April 25th, 1994.

Just kidding.

close up photography of cat
Photo by Amir Ghoorchiani on

Since I moved out when I was 18, I’ve been plagued by this feeling of, I’m lost. I’m sure many of you can relate to that feeling from when you (most of you) moved away from home to be an “adult” in the big, big scary world on your own. They say, “Sink or swim,” and you end up looking like Tom Hanks in Castaway. It’s even worse when your family moves out of state and you’re stuck with your girlfriend and her baby. (Whole other story).

So anyway, I carried this lost feeling around with me (mainly because it was like a leech attached to my soul) as I searched relentlessly for a way to make it stop. I traveled endless miles, moved a lot, tried many different hobbies, jobs, relationships, drugs… I was certain it’d end soon.

6 years later and it was still attached, still sucking me dry. But in the back of my head, there was always this idea that, if worse comes to worst, I could just move to California and live closer to my family. While a good idea, there were these internal conflicts keeping me from taking that step; the main one being that I myself wasn’t ready. I was a broke, jobless wreck and I felt like I needed to get my shit together first.

Didn’t happen.

Several months ago, I made the decision to move to California. Still a broke, jobless wreck, I used the last $200 I had to drive from Tennessee to the West Coast. This was it. I was finally taking the big step I’d been putting off for years. I was finally about to live closer to my family and we were all about to be happily together. Thoughts raced: Is this the right move? Will this get rid of the leech? Are they still the same? It’d been 6 years.

And so much can change in six years.

man in gray shit sitting on rock boulder
Photo by daffa rayhan zein on

I made the move over here to feel closer to family. To feel like there was some place where I actually belong. Since 18 I’ve wandered around like a piece to a puzzle that doesn’t know where it’s supposed to fit. But my family has become a family of their own. They’re picture-perfect and there’s no room for me in the frame. My face just doesn’t fit. It’s like while I’ve been away, my blood has become tainted by everything I’ve done and it’s no longer the same as theirs.

Let me explain a little more.

My youngest brother is almost thirteen. His room is full of trophies and medals. He gets all A’s, entered the state wrestling tournament, and already knows where he wants to go to college. He’s the one everyone in the family is constantly bragging on with proud smiles and who all the neighbors stop by to visit.

You don’t have to say it, I know I sound envious. And I am. But I’m not resentful. I love my brother more than life and I couldn’t be more proud of everything he’s done—but every time I look at him, I can’t help but compare our upbringings. We were both raised by the same mother, yet our lives are worlds apart. I can’t help but wonder that if maybe—just maybe—if I was raised like him, perhaps I could’ve turned out a little different.

In another life, I was raised in that household, graduated from a University, got a high-paying job and made my dad’s side of the family happy. In another life, I look like them.

“I have never felt like I belonged anywhere in my life. I don’t fit in with my family or anyone. I feel so lost and out of place.”


My brother is the spitting image of my father. And there’s nothing wrong with my adoptive father. He’s a good guy who’s done well for himself. He stepped in and saved my mother when she was in a shitty relationship and working as a bartender while single handedly raising me and my 2nd-to-youngest brother. He always wanted me to take a certain path in life (which I regret not taking), and it was opposite of what I wanted to do, so we argued a lot, to keep it brief. It was his first time being a dad and my first time being a son. It’s my fault, but him and I have just never really seen eye-to-eye.

I remember when the feeling hit—that feeling of I don’t belong here. It was Christmas, and my mom unwrapped a present. The gift was from dad’s side: a framed photograph of my mom, dad, and brother. The definition of picture perfect.

Then there’s me.

I grew up around alcoholics, needles, food stamps, and trailer parks. My family shopped at swap-meets, ate from the government, and my uncles died from liver disease because they drank themselves to death. I was in and out of psychiatric centers, handcuffs, and could hardly hold down a job, let alone finish college. At some points I was selling drugs and driving a prostitute to her calls so I could pay my $400/month rent. That’s how I grew up, that’s how I lived, and though times were dark, that’s the life I love.

Sadly, that was my mom’s side of the family, and everyone from that side passed away years back, taking most of that life I loved with them to the grave. All that family I grew up with, the ones that knew me and loved me unconditionally, they’re gone.

orange and and brown chess pieces
Photo by Markus Spiske on

Nowadays, when my dad’s side of the family comes to town they hardly speak with me unless they’re giving me a list of suggestions for jobs. Then again, why would they? I’m the awkward black sheep who couldn’t finish community college and got fired from Krogers, yet has delusions that he’ll someday become a successful writer.

While they all praise each other on their college degrees, their promotions at work, and their new cars, nobody takes interest in me or my dreams. They don’t care enough to ask what I’m working on or to read anything I’ve written. They don’t care enough to invite me to join the picture. And that’s fine.

I don’t fit in their frame.

P.S. I still have my Momma though ❤ As I said when we started, I’m not blaming my family. All I’ve said is simply how I feel. It’s my world through my eyes, and that view is often distorted.

Today’s post was supposed to be a piece of fiction, but I really wanted to get this off my chest. If you read through the post then I want you to know it means a lot. If you have any advice, feedback, or anything you’d like to say, please leave a comment below.

Thanks for reading.

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10 thoughts on “When you feel like you don’t fit in with your Family”

  1. I am a stranger in my own family. My parents got divorced and my Mom’s house is alright but once my dad married my stepmom a couple of years ago my life has just been mass chaos. You see I go to my Dads every other weekend which you might be wondering so what’s the problem? Just three days and it’s over. Right? Wrong! Every time I go there my stepmother talks shit about me when I am around…and I just agree. They act like I don’t have any feelings. Like I am a robot or something. The only person I have to vent to is my stepsister who feels bad for me. We have been besties for years. I also can’t talk to my Dad because he just blows it off like its nothing and I can’t talk to my other sister because she is 2. I don’t know how I can keep living like this.


  2. I read your piece today as I googled : adult who doesn’t feel like they fit in with their family. I am 57 years old, both my parents married multiple times and I was in and out of step families at least 4 times. I struggle with attachment, friendship, depression and anxiety. I am married for 28 years 💕😀 and have a wonderfully connected nuclear family….and still I mourn that I do not have good relationships with my siblings (1 full sib, 2 “half” sibs and one adopted sister). I, too, wonder what it might have been like to have “normal family life” :a dad in my home, fights and arguments that didn’t make me afraid someone would leave and the relief when they did. I struggled to maintain relationships with the step family after the divorces…it’s awkward! I have felt forever that I have failed! More recently I am believing I survived and that I am not the person solely responsible for maintaining relationships. I love my siblings AND it is difficult to coordinate gatherings with so many branches. So, I don’t try as often. I have felt the loneliness of being from “the other”….I am happy you have your mama, For me, “home” is where my mama is, and I don’t try to fit in. Families are hard work. I don’t have advice, I feel like I hear a survivor story in you. Keep writing, keep sharing. You never know when a 57 year old mom will need to hear your stories! 💕 Julie


  3. I feel your pain. Im the black sheep of my family. If you were to go to my mom’s house, you wouldn’t rven know i existed for all the picture’s of her other childree that are both normal and successful


    1. Lmaooo 😂 the city trolled thing worked! I was gonna go with it. After all, I’ve found that cities are indeed the places with the most trolls, so 🤷‍♂️
      No worries. Thanks again


  4. I can share relateable feelings. I’m not sure I have advice since we are not very familiar with each other and our respective lives. I grew up with a mother and father and me, I never knew until I was a mid teen that my father had adopted me. When I was 18 and met my birth family it was a shock to my system. (I came from a small family and city trolled environment) so many people and so much welcoming. Before long it was clear they loved me.
    But I didn’t fit. There was no way I possibly could, considering many of the things you’ve said. I grew up physically abused by my mother and never having been involved in their loving family while it was being developed. I would forever be different. I don’t want to say outsider because that sounds cold and I prefer to use onlooker because I’m often just watching them. I adore all of the, even though I don’t fit. Funny you call yourself a black sheep, I call/called myself a dark spot.
    I don’t live near them though. So maybe that keeps it out of my mind most times. Yet I visit often. I’ve become fairly content in the idea that life is life. We chant change things in the past just move ahead in the future, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have pathetic moments when I wish life have shown me a different young life. 🤷‍♀️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. So
      Thank you endlessly for leaving such a comment. Advice or not, you offered insight and something relatable so I don’t feel so distant.

      You’re very beautiful. I don’t mean on the outside (which you are), but on the in. I enjoy reading your posts. They’re very deep and unique. I always wondered what it was like in your head. Weird I know but I figured it was an interesting place. Now that you’ve shared a piece of your past and I’ve gotten a glimpse it makes you and your writing all the more, like I said, beautiful.

      Our pasts with our families sound eerily similar. Haha Well, nice to know there’s a fellow dark spot out there shining in the light of perfect families. Here here! 🍺

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Lol A fellow dark spot. 😋
        It was my pleasure to offer my experience, it’s always helpful to feel kinship.

        Thank for thinking such nice things about me. ❤️
        I’ve thought about knowing authors persoonal lives and whether is changes how we see their work. I think I’ve decided that it can jade our views. Or enhance them 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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