How I Found My People

If my life had a highlight reel, the quest for my tribe would probably play out like a laugh-out-loud-yet-heart-tugging indie movie. Picture it: a small-town, boardwalk-raised girl trying to figure out where she belongs in the world—equal parts hopeful, awkward, and enamored with romantic notions of belonging while she pours too much sugar into her sweet tea. Finding your people is no small feat, but it has the potential to transform your life. The journey is messy, funny, and incredibly worth it.

Here’s how I stumbled, tripped, and occasionally face-planted into discovering my own community, complete with lessons that might help you find yours too.

The Chapters of Finding Belonging

Like most great stories, finding my people came in distinct phases. Your journey might be different, but you’ll likely recognize the steps—and maybe some of my missteps—along the way. Let’s break it down.

Act I: Lone Wolf with a Side of Naïveté

Growing up along the Grand Strand, surrounded by sandy tourists in fanny packs yelling “Where’s the best shrimp and grits?!” you’d think I’d developed extrovert superpowers. Instead, I spent summers at my parents’ beachfront café immersed in books—romance novels, poetry anthologies, Southern gothic tales. Fiction was my first community. I didn’t have witty banter with peers; I had imaginary arguments in my head between Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester.

Don’t get me wrong. I had friends in school, mostly fellow drama club kids who thrived on the adrenaline of last-minute costume fixes and botched monologues. But once I left for college, our threads loosened. Those once-tight bonds didn’t quite stretch across 100 miles an hourglass-shaped state. Suddenly, I was back where I started, nervously scanning the cafeteria, this time in Charleston, clutching my lunch tray like a buoy in uncharted social seas.

Lesson #1: Realize you're not the only one.
It’s easy to fall into “Why do I feel so disconnected?” territory. But honestly? Everyone else is just as unsure as you are. Even that effortlessly cool hipster with the tote bag full of unread novels is secretly Googling “How do adults make friends?”

Act II: The Accidental Tribe

Fast forward to my senior year of college, where one accidental yes changed everything. My roommate, a theater major who spoke entirely in obscure movie quotes, invited me to join her at a book club that “needed some new blood.” I almost said no because, you know, people. Instead, I threw on my trusty cardigan—the one I called my Social Armor—and went.

Spoiler alert: the book club wasn’t really about books. Sure, we chatted about Eudora Welty, but it quickly evolved into a judgment-free zone for awkward oversharing, too much wine, and group texts that became my lifeline. These were the people who didn’t just laugh when I said I could never date someone who didn’t know the difference between high tide and low; they nodded in solemn solidarity.

Lesson #2: Build community through shared rituals.
It’s not always about having one big moment where you “click” with people. My tribe grew organically, like barnacles on a dock, through repeated, small interactions. Trivia nights. Beach bonfires. Unsolicited advice about which skincare doesn’t melt in South Carolina humidity. It’s the accumulation of moments that knits people together.

Act III: Losing and Rebuilding Relationships

Oh, the plot twist: friendships, like romantic relationships, don’t always last forever. Sometimes, life intervenes with long-distance moves, new priorities, or, in one case, a heated disagreement over who should host Friendsgiving. My Charleston crew slowly drifted apart after graduation, leaving me grasping at post-college life wondering, “Do franchises offer friendship loyalty points? Like, can I renew this one?”

This forced me to start over in Myrtle Beach, where I retreated into grown-up purgatory: work-friends-only relationships. You know, the kind that revolve around polite watercooler chats and forwarding each other dog memes. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t just want people to grab craft beers with; I wanted people who saw me.

So, I got shameless. I took a watercolor class on a whim and made awkward small talk about color gradients. I asked that nice girl in my yoga class what kombucha actually tastes like and somehow ended up on a group hiking trip. It wasn’t fast or easy—making adult friends rarely is—but every little effort snowballed. Bit by bit, I rebuilt.

Lesson #3: Vulnerability attracts connection.
When I finally embraced a little awkwardness (“Hi, um, I love your scarf. Want to hang out awkwardly until we’re not awkward anymore?”), my community expanded. No, you probably won’t bond with every person you meet, but never underestimate the power of vulnerability mixed with a hint of bravery. Bonus points if you bring banana bread—people love banana bread. It’s science.

The Pillars of a Meaningful Tribe

In my experience, here’s what separates simply having people to text from truly finding your people:

  1. They see who you are, not just who you seem to be.
    These are the folks who love both the Instagram highlight reel and the behind-the-scenes bloopers. The ones who notice when your smile doesn't reach your eyes or when you need someone to wordlessly sit with you after a long week.

  2. You cheer for each other unapologetically.
    I once spent three months cheering on someone from my book club as she learned to juggle fire. (Yes, actual fire. Yes, there were bruises. We supported her anyway.) Great friends grow alongside you.

  3. Effort flows both ways.
    True belonging isn’t about convenience—it’s about showing up. Whether it’s helping someone haul furniture up four flights of stairs or just consistently asking, “How are you really doing?” relationships thrive on mutual investment.

What I Wish I’d Known

While I’d love to tie this all up in a perfect bow, the truth is, finding your people is an evolving process. Some chapters come to an end. New ones begin. I haven’t figured it all out, but here’s what I can tell you:

  • Start small. One text. One “Hey, let’s grab coffee” message.
  • Be okay with rejection. Not every person you vibe with will stick, and that’s okay.
  • Show your quirks. The real you is infinitely more compelling than the curated you. (This is also why it’s fine to ugly cry while watching The Notebook in front of potential new friends.)

Most of all? Trust the process. Just like the tide rolls in new sand after every wave, your people will find their way to you—if you let them.

The Grand Finale

When I look back, finding my people wasn’t about one moment. It wasn’t about perfectly aligned personalities or ideal timing. It was about showing up—the way the ocean keeps showing up, wave after wave, carving something stronger and more beautiful from the shoreline.

You’ll find your community, too. And when you do, it’ll feel less like stumbling into a new circle and more like coming home. So, embrace the awkwardness, send that text, and dive in—your people are out there waiting with metaphorical open arms (and hopefully snacks).