I used to think that finding “my people” would be like stumbling across a secret garden—one moment you’re roaming through the overgrowth of life, and the next, you’ve pushed aside a branch and found everything blooming in just the right shade of “you.” It turns out that finding friends who feel like your long-lost family isn’t nearly that cinematic. It’s less “magic portal” and more “trying on jeans in a crowded store dressing room.” It’s awkward, a bit unnerving, and often requires being glaringly honest with yourself about what fits and what (or who) doesn’t.

But let me back up.

I grew up in Savannah, the kind of town that feels like it could keep a secret and tell you a bedtime story all in the same breath. Between the iron gates, cobblestones, and endless wraparound porches, you’d think connection would come naturally—like an iced tea pitcher that’s always full. Yet, the polished charm of the city can sometimes make you feel like you’ve stepped into a play but forgotten your lines. As a kid, I had my family to steady me: my father sketching old homes like they were whispers of the past, my mother playing Chopin in the next room. I didn’t really need “my people,” because I thought I’d already found them.

Turns out you also need a different ‘crew’ when you step out into the world. What I learned—and wish I’d known sooner—is that finding your tribe can be the most transformative and oddly romantic relationship of all. Here’s how I went from feeling like the odd biscuit out to finding the loveliest brunch spread of my life, one mismatched moment at a time.

The Thing About Belonging: It’s Not Always Instant

At first, I thought “finding your people” meant discovering a crowd that looked and talked like me—artsy with a dash of nerdy (think museum tote bags and an overuse of the word “liminal”). But after moving to Atlanta for college, it didn’t take long to realize that shared hobbies and similar Spotify playlists don’t immediately equal “your people.”

One weekend during freshman year, I joined a group road trip to an art installation in North Georgia. Everyone else was the inventive, DIY type, wearing henna tattoos and thrifted jackets. Meanwhile, I was quietly panicking over whether my perfectly timed Anne Carson quote felt too try-hard. The truth? These were nice-enough folks but nothing clicked. Have you ever thrown a dinner party and watched the soufflé flop? That was me—not awful, but not quite what it was supposed to be.

I realized then that “instant belonging” is a myth we cling to, much like the promise that bangs will transform your face. Sometimes, it’s not the wrong people—it’s just not your moment yet, and that’s okay.

Unlikely Friendships Start in Unlikely Places

By the time I arrived in Athens for grad school, I’d given up on curated circles—I decided to toss spaghetti at the wall and see who stuck. I hung out with people I didn’t expect, including a Monday bowling league (because clearly I was channeling my inner Lebowski), a rag-tag group of birdwatchers, and even acquaintances-turned-friends I met at Oxford shirt-themed trivia nights. These weren’t the “perfect people” I’d dreamed of meeting, but they were real and unpolished in the best ways.

In one particular moment of poetic irony, I found myself deep in conversation at a bonfire with a guy whose favorite condiment was mayonnaise. He somehow persuaded the group to host a "Condiments and Karaoke" party, where we bonded over our love of off-key singing and disdain for ketchup packets. (Yes, this remains a core memory.) What I came to find was that meaningful bonds form not in the sugar-dusted fairy tale moments, but in the wonderfully weird ones.

Which brings me to an important PSA: Stop trying to find a carbon copy of yourself and say “yes” to the unexpected—even if ‘unexpected’ happens while holding a jar of Hellman’s.

Be the Invitation You’re Waiting For

Another thing nobody tells you about finding “your people” is how much it requires effort. Not the “overachieving, head girl of your social life” kind of effort, but the type where you become the connection you’re looking for.

Case in point: Savannah is a town that prides itself on slow living, and there’s an unspoken Southern code about not rocking the rhythm. But when I moved back after grad school, I realized I couldn’t wait for my tribe to waltz into my life like some Nicholas Sparks subplot. So, I hosted an idea circle. Yes, an actual idea circle, complete with wine, cheese, and a rule that you had to bring one thought-provoking question for the group. I thought at best, five people would show up (and two of them would be my parents). Instead, a dozen arrived, including a friend of a friend who is now an integral part of my “crew.”

Let me tell you this: People are tired, busy, and unsure where they fit too. Be the person who makes it easier for others to show up. Your candlelit porch ideas—or literally just inviting people over for pizza—might be exactly what someone else is waiting for.

Learn When to Let Go

Not every social group will feel like forever, and the faster I embraced this, the less guilt I felt. There were times when I held on to friendships out of loyalty, nostalgia, or mild fear that being honest might rock the boat. (Spoiler: the friendships that can’t hold truth probably weren’t solid to begin with.)

One particular breakup—not romantic, but just as heartbreaking—taught me this. A grad school friend who’d once been my confidante grew frustrated when my post-grad life didn’t “fit” hers anymore. Why hang on when our paths were clearly diverging? I realized that sometimes stepping away from an old connection makes space for something truer to the person you’re becoming.

How to Start Finding Your People

Building your community doesn’t have to feel daunting. Here are a few small steps that worked wonders for me:

  • Go Deep, Not Wide: Be open to friendships that build slowly and deeply, rather than scattering yourself across a hundred acquaintances.

  • Get Comfortable with “No Thanks”: Declining invites to things or people who drain you is a way of saying “yes” to something better.

  • Pick Up a Quirky Hobby: Volunteer for the local cemetery restoration group (Savannah obsession, anyone?), join a cooking class, or throw yourself into a fiction book club where the group really overanalyzes the plot.

  • Introduce Yourself Twice: I’ve met some lifelong pals after striking up round two of introductions at one of those “we kind of know each other” moments. Don’t underestimate a second chance.

  • Trust the Process: The right friendships feel like a great house—some might need a little renovating but should still make you feel at home.

Finding Your People Is the Ultimate Love Story

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: finding the people who truly get you is an act of self-love as much as it is social magic. Your people won’t just cheer you on—they’ll let you bloom. They’ll also call you out when need be (like when I tried to bring boiled peanuts to a potluck and got lovingly roasted for it).

So if you’re feeling lost or lonely in your search, remember that belonging isn’t just external—it’s a journey inward, too. Start by being honest with yourself about what you truly need in friendships. Go forth, embrace your quirks, and trust the wonderful mess that is human connection. This is your garden to grow.