"I just don’t think you’ve found your people yet."
That’s what my mom said to me after I moved back to Austin post-college, entirely convinced I had failed adulthood by age 24. Group texts with my sorority sisters fizzled out, my artsy college roommates had dispersed across the country, and I somehow found myself spending Friday nights alone, trying to figure out how much wine was appropriate to drink with mac ‘n’ cheese. (Spoiler: it’s a lot. Especially if it’s that boxed kind with the powder.)
Her words stuck with me. My people. What does that even mean? Is there a neon sign flashing above heads that says, YOU BELONG WITH THESE FOLKS? If so, I couldn’t see it, because everyone I met felt about as compatible as tofu and Texas BBQ. And yet, here I am, years later, writing this from the middle of a cluttered art studio surrounded by a mismatched crew of people I now adore. So, how did I get here? And more importantly—how can you?
Let’s talk about finding your people, and by that, I mean your tribe, your community, your trusty squad of humans who make this wild ride of life a little less lonely. Spoiler: it’s not about luck. It’s about doing some digging. (And, occasionally, embarrassing yourself at trivia night.)
Step One: Accept That Loneliness Isn’t a Personal Failing
First of all, let’s stop pretending like loneliness is this shameful little secret only you are carrying around. I’ve been there. You’ve been there. Ted Lasso has been there. It’s part of the human condition, like getting stuck behind someone going five under the speed limit or crying at reruns of Parks and Rec.
Here’s the truth: there are seasons in life where meaningful connections are hard to foster. Maybe you’re in a new city, or maybe your current social landscape feels stale. That isn’t a reflection of your value—it’s a reflection of your circumstances.
What helped me was naming it. Just admitting to myself, “Harper, you’re lonely, and that’s okay.” Because once I took the fear and shame out of the equation, I could finally take action. Which brings me to...
Step Two: Put Yourself Out There (Even When It’s Awkward)
No one—NO ONE—likes being the new kid. But if you want to find your people, you’re gonna have to willingly step into situations that make you feel like you’re in middle school gym class again. The good news? Awkward moments are temporary, and they’re still better than sitting home wondering when your imaginary friend group will materialize.
Here’s how it shook out for me: I joined a knitting circle. No, I did not know how to knit. No, I have not, to this day, successfully completed a scarf. But what I found were people who immediately began to feel like family. One of them made me laugh until I snorted during my first meeting. Another offered me wine out of her Nalgene in the name of “hydration.”
If knitting sounds about as appealing as watching paint dry, you do you—just find something that interests you. That’s the hack, by the way: it’s not about finding people identical to you but finding people who value the same things. Community garden, book club, improv class, pickleball league—put yourself in any situation where connection is a plausible byproduct. Will it feel weird and unnatural at first? Sure. But three scarves’ worth of dropped stitches later, you’ll thank yourself.
Step Three: Quality Over Quantity (And Be Willing to Let Go)
Let me say it louder for the people in the back: Not everyone you meet will be your people. And that’s not a bad thing! Not every social interaction has to transform into a lifelong friendship. Some are just meant to be stepping stones—a movie buddy here, a co-worker happy hour there—and those relationships are valuable in their own right.
But for the deeper stuff? Pay attention to the vibes. I realized early on that my people were the kind of folks who could debate the latest Project Runway season with the fervor of a Senate hearing, then pivot to talking about anarchist cookbook recipes for the perfect banana bread. That’s just my jam. Your jam might look totally different. The point is, hold space for the people who make you feel expanded, not exhausted.
And here’s the hard part: If certain relationships feel like they’re fizzling, it’s okay to create some space. I had to do this with a few college friends when we realized that proximity, not shared values, had been the glue holding us together. There’s no bad blood; we just needed different things. It’s okay to grow apart—it’s natural.
Step Four: Embrace the Imperfect (Because, Guess What? So Are You)
There’s this Instagram-ified, hyper-curated idea of community floating around where every friend group is perpetually laughing and clinking Aperol spritzes on rooftops at sunset. And hey, if that’s your life, send me directions to your rooftop. But for the rest of us, real-life community looks messier. It’s group texts that peter out after too many GIFs. It’s someone bailing on brunch because their kid threw up at daycare.
My knitting group would not make for a very aesthetic feed. We argue about whose turn it is to bring snacks. Someone always accidentally swipes someone else’s scarf pattern and doesn’t want to fess up. But we show up. And that’s the whole point: to be seen in all your messy, human glory.
If you’re looking for perfection, you’re never going to find it. Instead, lean into the chaos. Laugh at it. Let your guard down enough to share the parts of yourself you’d rather hide. You’ll be surprised how many people will meet you right there, in the mess.
Step Five: Invest in What You’ve Found
Finding your people is one thing. Keeping them? That’s where the work comes in. Long after the initial excitement of a new group dynamic wears off, you have to show up for them—just as much as they show up for you.
Practically speaking, this means making plans, sending that “Hey, how are you?” text, or volunteering to organize group karaoke night (assuming your singing voice is equally as terrible as mine). Let people know they matter to you. Community is like a weird plant: you water it regularly, and it grows in unexpected directions.
One of the best decisions I ever made was hosting a “movie disaster marathon” at my place. Movies like Sharknado, copious amounts of popcorn, and a crowd of my people crammed into my tiny living room. It became a tradition, growing a little bigger every year. Find your version of that—something that brings people together, even if it’s as small as a Tuesday coffee chat. Impact doesn’t need to be monumental; it just needs to be consistent.
Final Thoughts: Start. Just Start.
If you’re waiting for a bolt of lightning to strike or a magical group of humans to knock on your door and invite you into their inner circle, I’ve got tough love: it’s not going to happen. Finding your people requires you to step outside of your comfort zone and plant the seeds. Sure, those seeds might grow slower than you want, and maybe not every one will sprout, but some will. And when they do? It’s magic.
You’re allowed to want connection. You’re allowed to feel a little lost. But most importantly, you’re capable of building the community you crave. So go out there, awkward silences and all. Trust me—it’s worth it.
And hey, if all else fails, there’s always knitting. Or at least the wine.
