The tide was out, and I was sitting on a jagged bit of granite in Acadia National Park, the kind of rock that insists you pay attention because it will add a scrape to your knee if you’re not careful. I’d just spent an hour inspecting a tidepool, marveling at the miniature universe inside: a hermit crab inching its way across a carpet of greenish algae, a bright orange sea star clinging to a submerged rock, and the briny smell of the Atlantic filling the air. It was peaceful, magical even—and yet, I felt this pang of loneliness. That irrational kind of loneliness where you think, "Maybe I should have said yes to karaoke last week…" An idea I always regret when Whitney Houston hits start playing.

Finding your people doesn’t always happen naturally, like those oxygen bubbles that form in tidepools. Most of us have to work at it, and sometimes it feels like trying to start a campfire with damp driftwood. Over the years, I’ve learned (sometimes awkwardly) how to find my tribe, whether that’s a close-knit group of friends, a professional network, or a partner who understands why I need to pull over to take a photo of a foggy harbor. It’s not always easy, but oh, is it worth it.

Here’s what I’ve discovered in my own journey toward finding belonging—scraped knees and all.

Take a Good Look at Your Own Tidepool

Before you can connect with others, you’ve got to connect with yourself. Sure, that sounds like something you’d hear from a yoga instructor named Skylar, but stick with me.

When I first left Bar Harbor for college, I was eager—too eager, maybe—to reinvent myself. I swapped out my trusty hiking boots for trendy flats that pinched my toes and joined a random club that focused on building roller coasters out of popsicle sticks. (I wish I were kidding.) It took a while for me to admit that what I really loved—nature, books, thoughtful conversations—was enough. Once I leaned into my passions, the right people started showing up like fireflies at dusk.

Ask yourself: - What are you naturally drawn to? - Where do you feel most at ease? - What excites you enough that you lose track of time?

When you get clear on these answers, they become your compass for finding not just people, but the right people.

Do the Thing That Feels Ridiculous

Sometimes, we wait for the universe to deliver our people to us, like networking is one of those claw machines and we just have to hope the stars align. But here’s a secret: your claws are far more precise than you think, and taking that first, ridiculous-feeling step pays off.

Case in point: the book group I joined last year. I’d spotted a flyer at a café advertising a "cozy classics club" and almost scoffed out loud. Who goes to a “cozy” anything by themselves on a Tuesday night? Well, apparently, I do. I showed up late, clutching Pride and Prejudice like someone might tackle me for it. But here’s the twist: the others at that slightly awkward circle of chairs? They were delightful. Within a few months, we weren’t just debating Austen’s finer points over tea; we were hiking, swapping life advice, and having potluck dinners where someone always brought brownies—not enough for everyone, mind you, but symbolic nonetheless.

When in doubt, show up. Take the class, attend the meetup, volunteer for the thing. Yes, you might feel like an extra in a rom-com who has no lines, but eventually, you’ll find the folks who make it worth the effort.

Look for Signals, Not Flashing Neon Signs

We live in a world of big gestures—elaborate proposals on Instagram, BFF road trips with matching outfits, friend groups that seem to sparkle on TikTok. But here’s a reality check: most real connections start quietly. Your people probably won’t show up carrying “WE BELONG TOGETHER” signs written in glitter.

Instead, look for subtle signals: - The coworker who notices your obscure music reference and smiles. - The neighbor who always says “hello” like they mean it. - The stranger at the coffee shop who compliments your battered copy of a Mary Oliver collection.

Building a community isn’t about fireworks. It’s about lighting small, steady candles with the people around you. When you notice the ones reaching out, even in tiny ways, reach back.

The Slow Burn of Real Connection

I’d love to tell you there’s a one-size-fits-all solution to finding your tribe, like a BuzzFeed quiz that sorts you into "Extroverted Adventurers" or "Introverted Homebodies" and matches you accordingly. But the truth is, real connection takes time. It’s less like a microwave dinner and more like a slow-cooked stew—messy, requiring patience, sometimes maddening, but oh, so satisfying in the end.

My closest friendships today grew during the in-between moments: long walks where nothing felt too “big” or “small” to share, sitting on the dock near my parents’ house, spotting shooting stars and crying over things we’d probably laugh about later. If someone makes you feel supported, heard, and better for knowing them, invest in that. Keep showing up. Keep listening.

Lasting connections rarely happen on a timer. Trust the process.

Build, Don’t Wait

Living near Acadia has taught me a lot about changing landscapes. A tidepool looks static to the untrained eye, but its reality shifts constantly: the kelp sways differently when the tide moves in, starfish nestle in new crevices, and waves refresh the water every few hours. Your personal tidepool—the people and relationships that make up your life—requires the same adaptability.

If you’re feeling stuck, here’s your to-do list: 1. Show up (even if it feels uncomfortable). 2. Be willing to be the one who says “hello” first. 3. Identify what makes you light up and find others in those spaces. 4. Allow relationships to evolve naturally—some will flourish, some won’t, and that’s okay. 5. Above all, trust that the effort you invest will come back to you when you least expect it.

Come As You Are

These days, I don’t doubt whether I belong. On any given weekend, you’ll find me with my haphazard crew: an artist who loves too many floral patterns to count, a marine biologist who insists on describing each species of shellfish we eat, and the most pragmatic engineer I’ve ever met (he has opinions about aqueducts and isn’t afraid to share them). We’re a weird little ecosystem, thriving on shared stories and snacks.

The key to finding your people, I’ve learned, isn’t in becoming someone else—it’s in showing up as you are. Maybe that’s cliché, but it’s also the truth. Because when you bring your whole, messy, delightful self to the table, you’ll find the ones who say: “Hey, we’ve been waiting for you.”

So, take a deep breath, step outside your comfort zone, and let the tide carry you. There’s a tribe out there for you—but first, you’ve got to show up and believe you’re worth finding. And trust me, you are.