“You obviously don’t belong here”

Tom had his first big race in the car he spent the last three years building, and he showed up with some insecurities.

Would people take seriously a car that had spent 31 years sitting in a field in Wyoming?

The car is named Rusty for a reason.

And what about his driving? He had practiced at our local track, but this was his first real race weekend in the new build.

Friday night, before racing started, everyone did an orientation session: 70% pace, five car lengths apart, no passing. Two laps. That was it.

Tom followed the instructions.

The woman behind him did not appreciate his restraint.

When they finished, she tore into him for not going faster and told him, “You obviously don’t belong here.”

Tom knew he had done exactly what he was supposed to do.

And he was furious.

He kept his cool with her and even helped her the next day, but the comment got under his skin anyway.

Possibly because it hit an insecurity that was already there.

Before building Rusty, Tom raced a 1964 Canadian station wagon with a vintage roof rack.

Everyone loved that car.

Eventually, Tom got fast enough that the car started taking corners on two wheels.

Exciting, but not exactly safe.

So when he built the next car, he had a choice.

He could go the Camaro or Corvette route and give himself a better shot at the podium.

Or he could be Tom.

He chose to take a brick and work hard to make it fly.

That meant accepting that Rusty might never be the fastest car out there.

And sometimes wondering whether that meant he didn’t really belong.

Then Saturday happened.

The fancy race-car people came over and swarmed Rusty.

They loved him.

Judges ranked Tom 12th out of 46 cars for design and engineering.

And on the exact same road course where his best time last year was 1:52 in the station wagon, he got Rusty down to 1:44.

Eight seconds faster.

At the award ceremony on Sunday night, Tom was surprised to receive the Driver’s Choice Award for the car he spent thousands of hours building for the past three year.

According to his competitors, Rusty belongs just fine.

The day before Tom’s race weekend, I had the opposite version of the same conversation.

At a law firm reception, I met a bright, warm woman who told me she had once been advised not to talk too much about the loving relationship she has with her husband around younger women.

The thinking was that some of them may not have a spouse, or may not have that kind of relationship, and hearing about hers could make them feel less than.

As someone who talks about Tom A LOT, I was surprised.

And a little sad.

Because that sounds like asking someone to dim something beautiful about her life so someone else will not feel bad.

I recently celebrated a girlfriend’s birthday with three of her sons. Their family has a tradition where everyone shares a favorite memory and what they love most about the birthday person.

Her sons told beautiful stories.

I don’t have children.

Their closeness didn’t make me feel less than because I’m not a mother.

It made me happy to witness and participate in it.

Someone else having something wonderful didn’t take anything away from me.

Sometimes we worry we aren’t enough to belong.

Other times we worry we’re too much for the people around us.

What if we stopped adjusting ourselves quite so much?

I keep picturing a world where everyone lets their own unique light shine.

Not the same light.

One bright pink. One green with orange polka dots. One blue and white like ocean waves. One sleek and polished. One rusty and weird.

All of them different.

All of them beautiful.

All of them make the world brighter because they are fully themselves.

That’s the world I want.

Not one where we dim ourselves so no one else feels uncomfortable.

A world where your light gives me permission to shine mine too.

So maybe this week, notice where you’re doing either one.

Where are you wondering if you’re enough?

And where are you making yourself smaller because you’re afraid you’re too much?

Maybe you don’t need to change yourself at all.

Maybe you just need to let yourself be fully you.

With love,

Ariel