I May Not Be Everyone’s Cup of Tea, But It’s Better to Be Me

There’s something I wish more people would talk about when it comes to military life: the loneliness that can sneak in—not just from moving or deployments, but from feeling like you don’t quite fit in with the crowd. Today, I’m sitting here with my yarn and my coffee, letting out a deep sigh, because honestly? I’m feeling it. The “mean girl” energy is real, even in adulthood, even in a community that’s supposed to be about support.

Maybe you’ve felt it too. The sideways glances, the whispered judgments, the sense that you’re a little too much or not quite enough for some circles. It stings, especially when you’re already carrying the weight of constant change and uncertainty. I’ve always tried to lead with kindness, to create comfort and connection wherever I go—whether it’s through a handmade doll or a simple word of encouragement. But some days, it just feels like you’re swimming upstream.

Here’s what I’m reminding myself today, and maybe you need this reminder, too:

You don’t have to be everyone’s cup of tea.

You don’t have to shrink yourself, dull your sparkle, or change the essence of who you are to fit into spaces that weren’t made for you. The right people—the ones who see your heart, your hustle, your quirks—will find their way to your circle. And those who don’t? That’s okay. Their opinions don’t get to decide your worth.

Military life is already hard enough. Let’s not make it harder by trying to twist ourselves into shapes that aren’t true. I’d rather be fully, joyfully, imperfectly me—even if that means I’m not for everyone. I know my value. I know the comfort and courage I’ve poured into every stitch, every story, every bit of this journey. And I know that somewhere out there, someone needs exactly what I have to give.

So if you’re feeling left out, judged, or just “too different” today, I see you. You’re my people. Let’s keep showing up, exactly as we are. The world needs more real, more heart, more you.

With love and a stubborn streak of hope,

Latosha