The Plant Pot of Work: Belonging, Unbelonging, and the Courage to Grow

A Life Across Borders: Navigating Belonging and “Unbelonging”

There was a time when work was simple. Not easy but simple.

You clocked in. Kept your head down. Did your job. For many of us, especially those from immigrant backgrounds, the purpose was crystal clear: Provide for your family. Be grateful for the opportunity. Don’t rock the boat.

We didn’t ask questions. We didn’t negotiate values. We listened. We adapted. We survived. And in many ways, that survival became our success.

But today, the story has changed - dramatically.

I say this not just as an observer of modern work, but as someone who has lived it across borders and industries, through both simplicity and complexity.

I’ve lived in four different countries, including Australia. Over the course of my 20-year career, I’ve worked in more than ten different jobs - sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of curiosity, and more recently, by choice.

And through it all, one recurring theme has stood out: Belonging. And its quiet counterpart - unbelonging.

There have been roles where I felt aligned, seen, and energised. And others where I felt like I was slowly losing myself, shaped by silent expectations and unspoken rules. Sometimes I had the clarity and courage to choose change. Other times, I stayed too long - conditioned by the rhythm of the workplace, unable to hear my own doubts until they grew too loud to ignore.

And I know I’m not alone. We’ve all been through it. Some of us are still going through it.

My husband’s story is quite different. He’s spent over 25 years in one profession in defence and medicine - serving with extraordinary commitment and purpose. A literal captain of the ship, leading people through trauma, war, and life-saving decisions, all for a collective mission: to return home with minimal harm.

His sense of belonging is forged in shared purpose and deep service. Mine, in the corporate world, has been forged and tested in a very different fire. Where the goal isn’t survival or return, but profit. Performance. Visibility.

And that changes how belonging is experienced - or withheld.

Belonging is not one thing, it is shaped by the culture around us, and the self within us. We each experience it differently, we each carry different stories, values, fears, and needs.

The Belonging Epiphany: What Work Has Taught Me

The line between work and home has blurred. Emails are read during dinner. Zoom meetings happen from the bedroom. Thinking about work now takes place in the shower, the school pick-up line, the gym.

And in this entanglement of personal and professional, we’re being told: “Bring your whole self to work.” But what does that even mean?

Is it showing emotion? Speaking up? Sharing your identity, values, and mental health challenges? Or is it simply showing up - grounded, honest, and intentional?

We’ve yet to agree. Because, truthfully, we’re still figuring it out.

For me, “bringing your whole self to work” has never been a neat or linear process. But I believe I now have the foundation and the lived experience to articulate what it means, what it feels like, and what we can do about it.

It’s been about self-awareness: noticing when I’ve drifted from my values, allowing myself to question what feels misaligned, stepping away from comfort to pursue purpose, choosing authentic, intentional connections that ground me.

And above all, it’s been about noticing unbelonging  that quiet, uncomfortable feeling that tells you:

This isn’t home anymore. This version of me isn’t whole.

Sometimes, that feeling is a gift. It invites reflection. It whispers the truth. And if you’re ready - it shows you the way back to yourself.

The Plant Pot Effect: Culture, Conditioning, and the Search for Belonging

So how does it begin? It starts early in every new job, when everything feels fresh. You watch the onboarding videos, attend the team events, smile on camera, and feel hopeful. This is the honeymoon period where a sense of belonging begins to take root.

It’s like being placed in a new plant pot. You’re all new to your “owners,” full of potential, hoping to bloom with colour. The instructions for your care are already written from your CV, your interview answers, your performance expectations. These set the guidelines of who you are and what you need to thrive.

At first, it feels like everything is in place. You’re watered regularly with check-ins and introductions. You’re positioned in just the right spot near the sunlight of opportunity, with colleagues to nurture you and managers to guide your growth. All designed to help you flourish.

But then, over time, something else starts to grow in the pot. A few small weeds easy to overlook at first. The unspoken rules. The silent expectations. The subtle shifts in tone and language. And if you’re not careful, those weeds can start to crowd the roots of belonging.

So, we begin to adapt. We moderate our tone. We self-edit. We dress, speak, and present ourselves to fit the room.

As a plant, we try to thrive under the conditions we’re given. At first, we’re watered, tended to, and placed in the right light. But then the owners our managers, leaders, colleagues get caught up in the busyness of their own lives. The regular care becomes inconsistent. Attention drifts.

The roots may have grown stronger, but now they face competition. Weeds begin to creep in. They fight for the same nutrients, the same space, the same light. And in the workplace, with the shifting expectations, the pressure to align even when it grates against our authenticity.

All the while, everyone is still focused on the same goal: to keep the plant alive, to keep the ship moving. And it’s almost always assumed that one day, the plant will be resilient enough to thrive on its own without constant care.

This is what happens in organisations too. The support at the beginning eventually fades. The responsibility shifts. And the individual is left to adapt sometimes flourishing, sometimes simply surviving.

It’s conditioning: Shaped by culture, by environment, by hierarchy, and by the innate human desire to belong. But it’s more than that.  Like a plant placed in soil, our roots respond to the nutrients and the toxins around us. The culture we step into, the language we hear, the behaviours that are rewarded or punished: all of it seeps in, absorbed almost unconsciously.

Our brains, like roots, are wired to adapt. They mirror what they see, they bend toward the light, and they adjust to the conditions of the pot they’re placed in. It’s not just habit. It’s survival.

So let’s dig deeper. Let’s find out more about the soil we work in  and what it means for how we grow, wither, or thrive.

The Soil of Work: How Our Brains Adapt to Belonging

We spend most of our waking hours thinking about or doing work even when we’re remote. We draft emails in our heads while cooking, rehearse difficult conversations while driving, and relive feedback from a week ago.

Work has its own language a polish, a tone, a standard of “professionalism” that we unconsciously absorb. And our brains? They’re wired to adapt.

Neuroscience tells us that the human brain is a pattern-detecting, socially attuned organ. When you spend 40+ hours a week in any environment especially one where power dynamics and reward systems are clear your brain begins to mirror what it sees. It’s not just habit. It’s survival.

So you change. You become more agreeable in meetings. You soften your language. You code-switch. You use acronyms. You avoid saying “I’m not sure” even when you are. Because you’re all in the same ship, working towards one goal. And to keep the ship moving, you must row in rhythm with everyone else.

But here’s the paradox: What keeps the ship moving might also keep your true self submerged.

It’s the same with a plant pot. The soil feeds your roots, the light helps you grow, but the weeds creep in too competing for the same nutrients, wrapping themselves around the roots until they begin to restrict your space. The very conditions that keep you alive can also choke the parts of you that make you unique.

The systems that create alignment and shared productivity can also create pressure to conform. And over time, that pressure pushes parts of you under the surface, your honest voice, cultural identity, unique perspective and your emotional vulnerability.

We stop showing up fully not because we’re hiding, but because we’re surviving. Authenticity gets weighed against alignment. And it’s not always a fair trade.

Many of us stop asking if this rhythm still works for us not because we’re at peace, but because keeping up is already exhausting enough. We’re too tired to challenge it, and too conditioned to even notice it’s happening.

But this is where the opportunity lies. Real authenticity doesn’t mean being disruptive or always challenging the system. It means creating the inner space to ask:

Am I adapting out of intention or out of fear? Does this still serve who I’m becoming?

It’s the gentle courage to course-correct when the rhythm no longer aligns with your values. To recognise that just because the plant is still standing tall… doesn’t mean it’s truly thriving. And maybe just maybe that moment of disconnection, that discomfort, that inner resistance…That’s what unbelonging feels like.

Not a failure. Not a flaw. But a signal.

A signal that something has shifted and it’s time to listen and act. Because unbelonging isn’t the absence of belonging. It’s the awareness that your place in the current system is no longer a true reflection of you.

The Inner Voice vs Authenticity in the Age of Algorithms

We all talk to ourselves. We replay conversations, analyse our tone, and wonder if we should’ve spoken up or stayed quiet. This inner dialogue is the essence of self-awareness.

But lately, something curious is happening. We’re turning outward for answers to algorithms, to search bars, and increasingly, to AI.

Instead of sitting in discomfort, we ask: 

- “How should I handle this situation?” 

- “Is this a toxic workplace?” 

- “Why do I feel this way?”

And while those tools can help, they also risk outsourcing our reflection. They give us answers when what we really need is space to sit with questions.

We’re being told to “be authentic,” but we’re also being fed curated feeds of what authenticity should look like.

The algorithm serves you tips on boundary-setting, executive presence, and emotional intelligence until you begin to question your own instincts.

You think, maybe I should feel this way. Maybe this is how I’m meant to show up. Maybe I’m doing it wrong.

But authenticity isn’t performative. It’s not a checkbox or a campaign. It’s knowing your truth and respecting someone else’s.

It’s also knowing when something no longer fits. And having the courage to act.

Is the Modern Expectation of Work Becoming Unrealistic?

There’s a growing sentiment, a voice that’s getting louder: “How does this job fit into my lifestyle?”

It’s no longer enough for work to just provide a paycheck. People want alignment with their values, space for their families, room for rest, and a sense of purpose beyond profit. And that’s powerful. Necessary, even. This shift is important. It’s overdue. But it comes with tension.

We want balance, growth, purpose, autonomy, belonging all in one role. Sometimes that’s possible. Other times, it’s a tall order. Often, those expectations collide with the reality of business imperatives, cultural inertia, and limited resources.

It’s a bit like expecting one plant pot to do everything. To give endless sunlight, the perfect soil, the right amount of water, protection from weeds, and space to grow without boundaries. A single pot can only hold so much. And when our expectations exceed its capacity, even the healthiest roots begin to strain.

This is where the gap opens: between what we long for and what work can actually provide. And in that gap, frustration grows like roots pressing against the walls of a pot that’s too small.

The pandemic didn’t invent these questions. But it did throw them into the light.

Overnight, work as we knew it was tipped upside down. Offices emptied, dining tables became desks, and connection was forced through screens. For many, the routines and rituals that anchored belonging were suddenly gone.

It’s a bit like a plant pot being tipped over. The soil spills, the roots are exposed, the stability is lost. At first, it feels like chaos like everything carefully built has been undone.

But here’s the paradox: disruption can also be clarifying. Sometimes when a plant is shaken from its pot, it reveals just how root-bound it had become. You can see where growth was stifled, where the roots were tangled, where weeds had begun to suffocate the soil.

The pandemic acted in the same way. It forced us to see clearly where work had become too tight, too rigid, too consuming. It asked us to consider: Do we want to go back to the same pot, or do we need repotting?

For some, the sudden change created space for freedom, reflection, even growth. For others, it was destabilising, grief-laden, and exhausting. And for many, it was both at once.

Now, in this so-called “new normal,” we’re still figuring it out. Replanting ourselves in unfamiliar soil. Searching for light in different places. Testing whether the new pot will hold us or whether we’ve outgrown it already.

So Where Do We Go From Here?

I believe the idea of bringing your whole self to work is not fully realised yet, but it’s on its way.

In the face of all this complexity, here’s what remains true: we have a choice. A choice in how we speak to ourselves. A choice in whether we stay or move on. A choice in how we show up for our teams and colleagues. A choice in how we hold space for difference our own and others’.

Let’s normalise by saying, “I’m still learning,” taking a walk instead of spiralling, meeting for coffee without an agenda, laughing, improvising, and not always being “on”.

Real work culture isn’t built in polished presentations or carefully worded strategy documents. It’s built in the messy, human places, in conversations, in conflicts handled calmly, in mistakes owned without fear.

It’s in the daily practice of relationship management, learning to navigate doubt, opening space to make mistakes and grow from them, and knowing you have leadership who will support you if you fumble.

It’s in the ability to move on with grace not clinging to resentment after conflict, but choosing alignment where possible, and respecting different views even when they don’t match your own.

And if you find yourself constantly banging your head against the wall? That’s not grit. That’s a signal. Like a plant root pressing against the edge of a pot, it’s telling you something: you’ve outgrown the space you’re in. It’s time to stretch, to replant, to find soil that can sustain and support you. Work isn’t just about fitting in. It’s about finding where you can belong and having the courage to move on when you realise you don’t.

Not every workplace will deserve your whole self. But you always will. Because the true heartbeat of culture isn’t found in slogans on the wall it’s in how we hold each other accountable, how we forgive, and how we create space for growth without fear.

So, honour your energy. Speak your truth. And know when it’s time to belong - and when it’s time to embrace unbelonging as the signal to grow, to move on, and to choose again.