Off-Label Use

I recently read the book The Gift of Not Belonging by Rami Kaminski, MD. Kaminski talks about a term he coined, otrovert. Similar to Carl Jung’s introvert and extrovert, otrovert describes someone who feels like an outsider in any group, regardless of its members. Otrovert is different from introvert because the anxiety and shyness that usually accompanies introverts in group situations is absent. An otrovert may look like they thrive in group situations. They appear comfortable and often lead in group endeavors or work situations. I am an otrovert. I can do the group thing. I’ve played in large ensembles. I’ve worked on leadership teams and attended large conferences. I didn’t really like any of it, but I was good at it. 

I know I am an otrovert. I don’t have a large friend group and prefer hanging out with one friend at a time. And nothing pisses me off more than team-building activities of any kind, especially those activities where you have to build a team out of complete strangers in a large conference room, in front of everyone else. 

This is a new label I can add to my collection. I have collected labels throughout my life. I finally had names for why I felt like I didn’t belong, why I wasn’t enough, and why I struggled in most situations. I don’t want to lessen those labels. I believe they are important and provide a lot of people a sense of relief in understanding themselves. That’s exactly what they did for me. And now it seems to be in all of my social media feeds like it’s a new trend. I don’t think the intent of most of those on social media is to gain some sort of notoriety from their diagnosis, but I’m also not naive enough to think all social media posters are authentically there to help. I believe the trend is just that there is better testing and more education out there and now people are more aware of what others might experience. I also realize that I am part of the machine that is fueling the trend.

With all of that being said, why do we even need labels? I wonder if the label is doing all the work for people who subscribe to them? For example, do they use their labels as an excuse to not work on themselves? Or, do they cease to be curious once they receive the label? If you strip all the labels off, do you still get to understand yourself? Who, if not yourself, gets to decide that?

It’s a question often asked by therapists, coaches, and big thinkers. I leaned into labels given to me (and that I gathered myself), that explained what I was feeling and experiencing. And I was asked by my therapist and coach why I thought I needed a label. For me, I found comfort in someone, anyone, that experienced the same things I did. I felt seen. I felt like I was enough. I felt like I belonged to a group. 

Recently, belonging has come up for me in a lot of different places. I am still looking to belong. I looked to belong my entire life from ballet and girl scouts when I was young, to sports when I was in high school. I wrote about an experience from high school in my latest Substack post that talks about how striving to belong creates stories that are hard to drop. Now, belonging is showing up for me in my career and retirement endeavors. Looking back on my teaching career, the way it ended is partly me wanting to belong. I wrote a Substack on that a while back if you are curious about it, or want to read it with the “not belonging” lenses attached. Currently, issues at work are giving me the opportunity to question if belonging is that important to me.

When I read Kaminski’s book, I had a label for why I had such a hard time finding a way to belong. Kaminski mentions that you don’t have a need to belong when you are born. It is taught much like social skills, manners, and sadly, racism. Kaminski also lists Einstein and Frida Kahlo as probable otroverts. Others who reference Kaminski’s book mentioned David Bowie and George Orwell. I like all of these people. And if I’m honest, I feel like I’m in good company. I should mention here though, that Kaminski’s book is based on his clinical experience and his own psychiatry practice, not any formal study. That’s a sticking point for a lot of people when it comes to labels, I guess. 

So, I’m trying to be okay with not belonging. I’m not alone in the “okayness” of not needing to belong. I’m trying to let go of the stories that remind me that I’m not enough, or that I don’t belong. I’m finding my curiosity is okay and that finding what makes other people tick is perfectly fine. I’m also discovering that not everyone shares my intense curiosity, that they are content with not knowing about others in their community, and that belonging is very important to them. I think that is okay if they don’t do things to hurt the others in their community they claim to not care to be curious about. 

When I finished the book, I sat with my new label, “otrovert.” It fit. I found I belonged to a group of people who don’t need to belong. There’s comfort in that. I like to know it’s okay to not belong. My question though is why is there comfort in belonging to a group of people that don’t find comfort in needing to belong? What is the comfort? Is it that you know you are not alone? And if it is, shouldn’t the lack of belonging create aloneness and be a comfort anyway? I guess knowing I don’t have to belong gives me permission to not belong. Then the question becomes why did I need permission? I have to get off this merry-go-round. Did I tell you I’m a fan of paradox? 

I’ve let the old labels relax a bit but I’m still new to not needing a label. I guess you could say I’m in more of an off-label use for my labels. I’m using the labels I have now in my own way. Labels are now a door to be more curious about what I’m actually all about. I’ll call it the label of “me.”