I Belong Here

By Lacey Grim

You're not only capable of achieving the things you want, that's why you're here.

Are you ready to stop duplicating and start detonating explosive success? This formula will help you unlock the doors to the magic you were created to bring forth.

I Belong Here was inspired by Lacey Grim's story of feeling lost, after having tried all the 'secrets', 'methods' and 'systems' laid out by colleagues and leaders, she stumbled on a formula that led her to more satisfaction and success.

This book exposes that guide and helps anyone who's ready find solutions they didn't know were missing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lacey Grim
• Release date: Jan 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578799117

Book preview

Introduction

I do not belong here. These words ring in my mind like an anthem, a background soundtrack I forget to even notice. Maybe it’s my religious upbringing, where I always felt I could somehow be doing more good and less bad. Or perhaps it’s being raised female, always feeling less smart than my male counterparts. Maybe being the second child, who was always just trying to be acceptable, trying to not be annoying, trying to keep up… somehow I’ve gone through life with this sneaking suspicion that any minute someone will tap me on the shoulder and quietly, kindly-even, escort me back to wherever it is I belong. Hell? My bedroom? The corner? And for this reason. . .I work hard. I show up. I do ALL the things. I make people laugh, I make people feel. But I have a hard time just being, because in all that activity I am convinced I might prove that I DO belong, and I’m useful enough to stay.

Ouch.

I won’t expound on the things that keep me in this frame of mind. That’s not why I’m here. The truth is, I’m coming to grips with my reality. My really good reality. The reality I belong in. The guilt, fraudulence, and criminal feelings are subsiding—though I do have to keep a lookout. We all have sneaky little beasts we must bop on the head like a never-ending game of whack-o-mole. And let’s think of it like that, right? Because there’s nothing more fun than a successful round of bopping furry rodents on the head and leaving the game behind with a fistful of tickets—amiright?

It’s so easy to overcome this feeling—what now has been coined as imposter syndrome. So easy! Just do about a decade’s worth of self-development work, read sixty-plus books, maybe get a therapist, and you’ll likely uncover your own set of delinquent demons who ensnare you in one way or another. Maybe yours are the same as mine. (And I have others! A family of little trolls who pop out to taunt me when certain triggers present themselves.)

Finding all these little pesky stinkers is not the aim of this book, though. There are plenty of other books for that work. Though this book may prompt some demons to present themselves, it’s not my goal here. My goal here is a little more practical—and I’m pointing this out because it’s not likely that we’re in the same exact place in our journey of self-discovery, but I do want to make sure you know that it doesn’t matter what stage of the growth game you’re in; you belong here. And, I believe this book will pertain to you.

I started this introduction with I do not belong here because that one thought is the thought that keeps us stuck wherever we are and keeps us from moving on to wherever we want to go. And that’s dumb, because we do belong here, no matter where here is. Even if that means here is writing a book when you grew up believing that writing is not your gift to have.

So, let me start this again. I belong here.

So do you.

I hope the information I couldn’t refrain my heart-led hands from typing out is a tool you can draw upon to not only know you belong, but to feel like you do, too. And also, I want to give you some practical working-shit-out, useful kinda stuff—like actual things to do that aren’t just rote busywork. Because if you’re not connected to what you do, you will never feel like you truly belong.

I have had success; I have been exceedingly successful and, might I add, happy. But, even after all that, in the face of not progressing as I’d have wanted, in the presence of failing to get where I wanted to go—where I’d expected to have gotten years ago because I was doing the things—I have been deeply depressed. I’ve felt invalid,

disenfranchised, frustrated, demoralized, and totally misguided. I have felt spent, used up, and tired. My passion has been deflated, and my heart hurt. I was trying hard. I was having great ideas and even wonderful responses. I was doing all the right things. But, somehow everything I started fell flat with a resounding and painful crash to the floor. The success I’d had in the past had rolled in like a gentle afternoon storm. Some lightning and thunder and a nourishing amount of rain. It felt good and right, and I was so satisfied. But something shifted as I continued to pursue my dreams, and then every single move I made—the moves that had worked before—left me sprawled out at the bottom of the wall. Literally on the floor, laid out in utter confusion—hopes dashed, excitement pulverized.

Then, recently, I gained some clarity. The message was to shut-up. To sit-down. I’m stubborn: my idea-having, activating personality falls, cries, gets up, and does it again a little differently. But, after several years of this round and round, guess what I figured out? I’m tired. I’m spent. And so the words I finally heard were, stop and receive. Of course, once wasn’t enough for me to heed, so I had to fall again, hear it again, ignore it, repeat, repeat, repeat. I mean, what does that even mean? How does a doer stop? I was beside myself—confused, lost, and even heartbroken. . .

But finally, I obeyed. And I tuned in. I’m saying this to tell you to do the same. Observe, receive, and allow things to happen without you. You are allowed to receive without having lifted a finger. Maybe you’re already good at that—I am not. But I want to encourage you to set aside the normal routine while you read this, and just let it sink in. What I have seen is that we get into a pattern of doing that feels like all the right stuff, but it is really not ours. If you’ve picked