I grew up surrounded by horses and hay bales, which sounds romantic until you realize hay bales come with spiders—lots of spiders. My childhood was the stuff of rustic dream boards: morning light breaking over the Rockies, the smell of sagebrush after rain, and the occasional runaway foal that required elaborate (and slightly comical) rescue missions. Still, life on a Montana ranch had its quirks—like learning early that a stubborn horse and a stubborn human aren’t so different. Spoiler: You can’t out-stubborn a horse.

But for all the beauty and grit of my upbringing, I didn’t always feel like I had my people. You know, the kind of folks who get your weird jokes, cheer you on without jealousy, and gently talk you out of bad ideas (like dating that guy who thinks owning a harmonica qualifies as “artistic depth”). Finding a community, a real tribe, took time—and a fair bit of misadventure. Here’s how I found mine, cowboy boots and all.

The Realization: You Can’t Go It Alone

I spent years in my head, thinking I could be a one-woman ranch of sorts—self-sufficient, independent, and impervious to loneliness. It’s hard not to romanticize that idea when you grow up in wide-open spaces. But solitude has its limits, and I learned that the hard way when I first moved to Missoula for college. Picture me hauling three oversized suitcases up a dormitory staircase (who packs this much flannel?), watching groups of people bond while feeling like a kid on the outside of a snow-globe scene.

Despite my literary inclinations, I wasn’t yearning to join a book club—I just wanted someone in my corner, someone to laugh with when life got ridiculous. I went to an intramural volleyball game once, thinking, Maybe I can fake being athletic? Turns out, I can’t. My two left feet made that clear. Point is, I didn’t find my people in obvious places. Sometimes, you have to look a little harder and—here comes the kicker—be a little braver.

Finding My Herd: Start Where You Are

Growing up with horses taught me a lot about instinct. Some animals are natural roamers; others thrive in herds. Turns out, people are like that, too. When I first tried to find my crowd in Missoula, I spent time chasing groups I thought had it all figured out: the artsy hipsters, the outdoorsy adventurers, even the latte-sipping intellectuals who congregated around the campus coffee shop like it was Studio 54. But nothing clicked.

Eventually, I realized it wasn’t about trying to mold myself to a group—it was about finding connections that felt like coming home. My first break? A late-night dorm heart-to-heart with a neighbor after she overheard me quoting “Parks and Recreation” in frustration over a term paper. The next thing I knew, she was making me laugh over my fears about fitting in. Over time, small, unexpected conversations paved the way to something meaningful.

Lessons from the Saddle: Tips for Building Your Tribe

It’s worth mentioning that finding your people doesn’t happen overnight. Relationships, like ranching, require patience and upkeep. Here are some lessons I picked up along the way:

  1. Be Real, Even If It’s Awkward:
    Look, nobody’s “polished” when they’re deep-cleaning horse stalls or crying into their ramen during finals week. Vulnerability isn’t a weakness; it’s your human showing—and that’s what draws others in. I used to think I had to put on a big, shiny front, like some rodeo queen, to impress people. Turns out, honesty about your quirks, talents, and flaws is much more inviting.

  2. Shared Goals > Shared Interests:
    Here’s what I learned when I joined my first hiking group: You don’t have to share everyone’s playlist or podcast preferences. A shared sense of purpose (say, making it to the summit without collapsing) matters more than common hobbies. Translation? Seek out experiences where you’re on the same page—relishing a potluck picnic, tackling a team project, or celebrating mutual wins.

  3. Embrace the Little Things:
    My closest friends aren’t the ones who throw elaborate dinner parties (though I’ll never say no to pie). They’re the ones who send a silly text when they hear a bird call that sounds like a broken accordion because you think that’s hilarious. Big moments matter, sure, but the frequency of smaller gestures—from goofy inside jokes to surprise coffee runs—build unshakeable bonds.

  4. Don’t Force It:
    Horses don’t respond well to pushiness, and people don’t either. If a connection isn’t clicking, let go of trying to control it. Some folks are meant to pass through your life like tumbleweeds, while others will stay. The magic lies in knowing the difference.

The Unlikely Heroes of Community

In Montana, a herd is only as strong as the weird combo of personalities within it. Ranchers will tell you: Not every horse gallops; some just lope along. When it comes to friends, romantic partners, or even coworkers, the same principle applies. My inner circle now defies labels—there’s the artsy book designer who spends her weekends doing wildlife photography, the self-proclaimed “lousy farmer” who goes hard at karaoke, and my buddy who’s equal parts data analyst and bluegrass fiddler.

We mesh not because we’re perfectly alike but because we’ve learned to ride through life’s storms together. And yes, we’ve had our fair share of mess-ups—cancelled plans, poorly executed surprise parties, and awkward group vacations (never underestimate the havoc five people can inflict on one Airbnb bathroom). But through it all, our shared laughter and loyalty trump the small stuff.

Coming Home to Connection

Years later, when I visit Bozeman to check in on my parents’ ranch, I often think about how friendship is a lot like caring for animals—it’s nurturing, imperfect, and occasionally involves shoveling through some metaphorical muck. And yet, when you find your people, it's always worth it.

Your herd might not look how you imagined. They might be spread across states or bound by quirky group texts instead of saddle rides into the sunset. But they’ll feel like home—chaotic, hilarious, loyal, and unshakable. So, if you’re still searching, don’t worry. Wander a little, get outside your comfort zone, and stay open. They’re out there, your people. I can just about guarantee it.

Because no matter where you start—Bozeman ranch, bustling city, or somewhere in between—we’re all just humans trying to find a place to belong. Dust off your boots, friend. Your tribe is waiting.