Finding your people is like learning to dance. Awkward at first, maybe downright embarrassing, but when you get the rhythm, it just feels… right. For me, it wasn’t about spotting the perfect tribe at first glance or dramatically locking eyes with “my people” across a metaphorical cafeteria. No, my journey was tidier on paper but far messier in reality—kind of like choosing a new show to binge on Netflix. You scroll endlessly, dabble in a few episodes, and then suddenly, you know: these are my characters.

Let’s dive into how I went from feeling untethered in a sea of acquaintances to finding the community that truly felt like home.

The “Lonely and Searching” Starter Pack

Picture this: fresh out of college, another beautiful San Diego sunset at my back as I sip a green smoothie on the patio of a boutique café. Sounds dreamy, right? Well, yes—except for the fact that I was sitting alone with my smoothie, scrolling through Instagram feeds full of people hanging out in groups of friends that looked suspiciously like stock photos of effortless joy.

I was a pro at making acquaintances—friendly, upbeat, “let’s totally hang out sometime!” energy. But finding actual, I’d-stay-in-my-sweatpants-around-you friends? That was trickier than trying to catch a wave without wiping out.

Even my hobbies weren’t much help. Hiking solo was serene, but it didn’t foster much in the way of connection. My yoga class? Ghost town levels of conversation afterward. It felt like I was stuck in an airport terminal, endlessly waiting for a group to “board.” My people felt just out of reach, like a tide that always pulls back before you can touch it.

Testing the Waters

Here’s a truth I wish I’d embraced earlier: finding your tribe works a lot like dating. No, really. You have to try different “matches,” awkwardly mingle, and decide what clicks—all while reminding yourself that rejection (or plain old ghosting) is not the end of the world.

For me, that started with joining a local book club. I was desperate enough for conversation that I swore off my usual awkward exit move—the fake “I have to get up early!” excuse I routinely deployed right after introductions. Instead, I made an effort to engage. Did it feel forced at first? A little. Did I attend a second meeting anyway? Heck yes.

Even if that specific group didn’t turn into lifelong friends (spoiler: it didn’t), the experience boosted my confidence. I’d stepped into a new social circle and survived! Turns out, socializing isn’t so scary once you let go of the mental checklist proving to yourself that you’re “cool enough” (or let’s be honest, “cool seeming enough”).

Finding Common Currents

The turning point came when I stopped searching for “friendship matches” based on surface-level convenience—I wanted to get real. What spaces felt restorative and natural to me? Where was my genuine self already showing up?

At the time, I was diving headfirst into coastal conservation volunteer work, writing about marine life and the surreal beauty of tide pools. So, I figured, why not start there? I signed up for a weekend beach cleanup through a local organization. Within ten minutes of picking my inevitable plastic water bottle out of the seaweed, I was swapping playlists with a fellow volunteer who shared my obsession with Jack Johnson (insert yet another La Jolla stereotype here).

Over the next few meetups, the casual shoreline conversations turned into group dinner invites, spontaneous road trips, and that magical moment when inside jokes start forming without even realizing it. I’d gone from small talk to the kind of friendship where you know someone would save you from any embarrassing karaoke moment.

Here’s what I learned along the way:

  • Shared values matter. Whether it’s a cause you care about, a hobby you love, or—you guessed it—a shared appreciation for marine conservation, doing something you believe in naturally attracts people who resonate on the same wavelength.
  • Connection takes time and repeated exposure. Just like brushing up on a hobby, bonds deepen when you consistently show up. (Even if showing up occasionally means balancing a leaky trash bag full of seaweed in your hands.)
  • Friendship isn’t always fireworks. Sometimes it’s more low tide than crashing wave—a slow, steady build that surprises you with its depth.

The Myth of Effortless Bonds

There’s a common myth we tell ourselves: that some people are born with innate friend-making abilities⁠, programmed to attract communities while the rest of us fumble around like tourists trying to hail a cab. If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: finding your people doesn’t happen passively, nor does it instantly. (Although Hollywood rom-coms sure make it look like it does.)

Stumbling upon your tribe isn’t about being charismatic or fortunate. It’s about actively being you—and doing it in spaces where others who value “you” tend to gather. I’m talking beachside meetups, nature writing workshops, or just about any gathering where people want to connect over shared interests.

That’s the secret. Your community isn’t necessarily the first group of people you encounter in life—it’s the ones who make your quirks feel like talking points rather than something you have to water down.

Lessons from the Sand and Surf

When I reflect on the friendship journey, it feels an awful lot like watching the waves. Patience, persistence, and alignment with nature are key. You don’t fight the current; you work with it.

So, if you’re still searching for your people, here’s my advice:

  1. Put yourself out there. Yes, I know, easier said than done. But true connection requires disconnection from your comfort zone. Sign up for that class, attend that event. Go.
  2. Focus on shared joys. Real, lasting connections are made when you align with people who naturally thrive on what makes you happy.
  3. Don’t chase quantity. One genuine connection beats ten shallow ones. Even if your eventual tribe is more “intimate dinner party” than “massive group hang,” that’s perfectly okay.
  4. Be patient. Friendships are cultivated over time. The right people will feel more like sipping a perfect cup of coffee rather than chugging a Red Bull—you’ll know when it feels right.

Where I Landed

Today, my “tribe” is a mix of beach clean-up buddies, fellow creative writers, and my dog-walking neighbor who’s always down for impromptu vent sessions over iced coffee. These are folks who understand that sometimes I need deep, soul-searching conversations—and sometimes I just need memes of otters holding hands sent directly to my inbox.

The process of finding my people taught me more about myself than I’d ever anticipated. It wasn’t just about discovering others—it was about discovering how I show up for others, and for myself.

And for that reason, a little awkwardness was more than worth it. Finding your people may take some detours, but you’ll know when you’re home. And when you do? Trust me—it’s like riding the perfect wave. You never want to come back to shore.