You’re Not Alone, Even When It Feels Like You Are
I once heard someone describe loneliness as "drinking lukewarm coffee in an empty room and pretending it tastes good." It's clunky but not far off from how I felt after finishing grad school. There I was, degree in hand, back in my hometown of Telluride – a place with more hiking trails than Tinder matches. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against silence or the company of mountain peaks. Still, I found myself feeling unmoored like an old cowboy with no saloon to wander into.
Now, community isn’t exactly something Amazon Prime can deliver by tomorrow at noon. It takes effort, patience, and, occasionally, a bit of humor. Still, as someone who once mistook "finding my people" for "learning to tolerate acquaintances," I’ve realized there’s an art to it. Here’s how I went from feeling like the odd horse out to finding my herd. Spoiler alert: it involved more than just showing up with a six-pack and hoping for the best.
1. Own Your Weird, Embrace Theirs
Let me start with a confession: I am unreasonably into historical trivia. Ask me about the mining boom in the Rockies, and you'll get an answer so detailed that it’s practically a dissertation. For the longest time, I worried my love of niche history made me come across as “that guy” – the one who corners you at the campfire to explain how barbed wire changed the frontier.
But here’s what I learned: being unapologetically yourself is magnetic. Sure, not everyone's going to share your passion for obscure 19th-century anecdotes or, I dunno, crocheting mug cozies shaped like Star Wars characters. But when you lean into your quirks, you find others who light up at the same things. In my case, I stumbled across a local book club dedicated to regional history. At first, I almost didn’t go – book clubs seemed so, well, domestic. But one Thursday later, I was laughing over someone’s theory that miners invented modern lasagna (they didn’t) and realized I was right where I belonged.
So, embrace the parts of yourself you think might be odd. Whether you're obsessed with backcountry skiing or crafting charcuterie boards shaped like celebrity faces (someone must be), your “weird” is what makes you awesome.
2. Show Up to the Rink
When I was a kid, my dad used to say, “You can’t score a goal if you never lace up your skates.” Folksy? Yes. But also true. I’ll admit it’s tempting to stay home and scroll through Netflix instead of showing up to that rock-climbing workshop or storytelling open mic. It feels safer to let potential friendships live in the realm of "maybe, someday" rather than risk the awkwardness of those first interactions.
But if I hadn't shown up to a community trail restoration project last fall, I never would’ve met Sam and Dani – a couple of outdoor-loving, trivia-crushing misfits who also happen to share my borderline-obsession with 80s Western films. (Props to them for gifting me Silverado on VHS at Christmas last year.) They’ve since become the kind of friends who'll show up with beer after a bad day or help you wrangle an ornery horse when your saddle breaks mid-ride.
Actionable takeaway? You have to show up – even when it's hard, even when you're tired, even when you're 100% sure everyone else already knows each other and you’ll stand out like a porcupine in a petting zoo. Showing up is half the battle. The other half? Remembering to enjoy it, however imperfect it may be.
3. Keep A Beginner’s Mind
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about making friends as an adult: it’s basically like dating. You have to get comfortable starting over, trying new things, and occasionally striking out. (That intramural volleyball team I joined? Let’s just say I am acutely aware of how bad I am at sports requiring hand-eye coordination. But hey, I tried.)
Your “people” might not look or sound like you imagined. When I first moved back to Telluride, I assumed my kindred spirits would be the down-to-earth outdoorsy types I’ve always gravitated toward: fellow fans of cowboy boots over formal dress shoes and campfire coffee over cold brew. Turns out, one of my closest friends from recent years is a high-energy L.A. transplant who prefers Broadway musicals to fly fishing. Did I get his Hamilton references at first? Not a clue. But over time, our conversations turned into a crash course in accepting the unexpected.
Keeping a beginner’s mind means letting go of rigid expectations about what your community should look like. Stop filtering people out because they seem outside your “type.” Be curious, give others grace, and don’t be afraid to laugh at yourself when you stumble.
4. Curate, Don’t Conform
Here’s where things get a little tougher. Not every circle you stumble into will fit like a glove. Some will feel more like those rental riding boots at the stables – stiff, awkward, and stubbornly inconvenient. And that’s okay.
When I first moved back home, I joined a couple of groups that, on paper, seemed like a great fit. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I always felt like an outsider watching the room from a distance. The thing is, forcing connection never works. You can’t fake chemistry – with friends, with partners, or even with yourself.
So, what do you do when a group isn’t clicking? You politely step back. Community-building is more about curation than conformity. The goal isn’t to fit in at all costs; it’s to find those spaces where you can show up fully and still feel welcome. Trust me, the people you vibe with are out there. Give yourself the grace to say “no thanks” when something doesn’t feel right.
5. Celebrate the Small Wins
When I finally started dialing in on my people, my first instinct was to marvel at how easy it started to feel. But here’s the thing: it wasn’t easy. It was imperfect, messy, full of awkward pauses and emails that started with “Hey, I know we just met…” It only felt easy toward the end because I stuck it out.
Celebrate the small victories: the neighbor who invites you for coffee, the new coworker who asks about your weekend plans, or even that moment someone laughs a little too loudly at a joke you were sure would flop. Those small wins are the glue of community. Cherish them.
Conclusion: Seek, Show Up, Stay Open
If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this journey, it’s that nobody builds a community by accident. Finding your people is like crafting the perfect campfire: it takes work, the occasional bit of trial and error, and a little patience while the flames catch. But when it does light up? Oh, there’s nothing better.
So whether you’re new in town, starting over after a breakup, or just feeling a little adrift, know this: you’re not alone. Seek out spaces where your interests intersect with others’. Show up, even if it feels intimidating. Stay open, even when it’s messy. Your people are out there, waiting to meet you. Probably over a cup of slightly-burnt campfire coffee – but hey, it’ll taste better when shared.
