How do you know when you've found your people? Is it the easy laughter that feels like you’ve known them forever? Is it how they instinctively know to pour you sweet tea on a bad day—or that you prefer unsweetened no matter how sacrilegious that might seem in the South? For me, it hit somewhere between an impromptu midnight biscuit bake-off and a tear-inducing conversation on a rickety porch swing. Finding "my people" wasn't a lightning bolt moment but rather a slow, deliberate journey—forged in moments of shared vulnerability, borderline-bizarre humor, and a heaping dose of self-acceptance.

For a Southern girl like me, raised with an appreciation for storytelling and connection, finding my tribe made life richer—and believe me, it wasn’t always easy. So, whether you’re flipping through life wondering “where are my people?” or just need a laugh to get through the search, let me tell you how it all unfolded for me. Maybe my journey will help you find yours.

The Disney-Fied Myth of Instant Belonging

We’ve all seen it: some plucky main character rolls into the cafeteria/trendy coffee shop/magical alien planet and immediately locks eyes with their soulmate-bestie. Cue montage of slumber parties, long hugs, and matching tattoos. And while rom-com-worthy “meet-cutes” might happen sometimes, the honest truth is… real-life connection doesn’t come with a dramatic soundtrack. Personally, I spent far too many years buying into the idea that meaningful relationships were something that just “happened.”

As a painfully shy teenager at my arts magnet high school, I lurked on the outskirts, hoping one day the “cool theater kids” would notice how mysterious I was (spoiler alert: they didn’t). And in college? I convinced myself I’d fit in with a group of campus activists, casually inserting myself into their circle wearing my best “change-the-world” energy. Did I connect over our shared interest in social justice? Sure. But when those group chats fizzled after graduation, I realized something profound: showing up in the same spaces doesn’t mean finding real belonging.

Bottom line? Finding your people isn’t a microwavable process. It’s more like slow-cooking chili—worth every simmering moment, but it takes time, attention, and the right ingredients.

Step One: Get Comfortable Being Yourself

Here’s the thing: the people meant for you can’t find you if you’re too busy pretending to be someone else. (Lookin’ at you, freshman-me in that cringe-y Che Guevara T-shirt.) Just like in dating, authenticity is step one. Friendships hit different when they’re built on shared truths—and that starts with showing up as your truest self.

For me, self-acceptance came gradually. Moving into my mid-twenties, I stopped apologizing for what made me “different.” Like my borderline-obsession with old family recipes. Or my tendency to talk about antebellum Alabama as if I were personally there (historian problems). When I chilled out and embraced my quirks? The magnetic energy shifted. I found myself connecting with people whose laughter came easy, who leaned in when I spoke, and—best of all—shared pieces of their world, too. The lesson? Embrace your weird. The right people will want every quirky inch of it.

Step Two: Pay Attention to Who Feels Like Sunshine

Listen, I’m not saying search for friends on vibes alone, but good relationships often grow from that unnameable feeling: safety. Pay attention to who makes your shoulders relax. Who feels easy to talk to—not because they agree with everything but because they actually listen. Finding your people means finding the soft places where your authentic self can land.

For me, it was an unexpected combination of folks: a group of women from a local book club (bonded by midnight discussions about Southern Gothic literature), an older neighbor who invited me over for gospel choir practice (I’m not a singer, but Lord did I try), and a fellow grad-school historian who loved bourbon over ice and deep dives about lost cemeteries in Alabama. These weren’t people I found all at once—more like pieces of scattered treasure I had to piece together. And remember: the glowing connections aren’t always the most obvious ones.

Step Three: Find Shared Rituals

Every tribe has its rituals—they’re the unspoken glue that holds people together. Family dinners on Sunday, the group chat that lights up during Bachelor Nation every Monday (no shame), or the unbreakable tradition of “Taco Tuesday.” Rituals give us reason to show up, stay consistent, and build shared trust.

In my world, the rituals with my people shaped themselves naturally—a Sunday morning potluck at a friend’s house turned into a bi-weekly tradition of swapping homemade jams and debating whether The Notebook is overrated. Hint: it is. I’ve found that when a group of people naturally aligns, the shared rituals don’t feel like obligation. They feel like home.

Step Four: Learn to Spot the Red Flags

Not every connection will make the final cut—and that’s okay. It’s worth saying: not all community is healthy community. Sometimes, you’ll pour yourself into a group that simply doesn’t pour back. (Remember my college activist days? Exhausting.) And yes, finding your people will occasionally mean cutting ties with the wrong ones first.

Here are some flags I learned to watch for:
- Always being the initiator. Friendship works when it’s reciprocal. If you’re chasing the group text just so it feels alive—move on.
- A lack of emotional availability. Your people don’t need to know your deepest traumas Day 1, but real connection thrives on depth. Superficial bonds won’t sustain long-term trust.
- Feeling judged rather than celebrated. Honestly, this one stings but is critical. Growth stems from supportive accountability—not side-eye snarks about who you are (or aren’t).

It’s okay to let go of being “liked” by everyone and focus on creating space for those who love you for exactly who you are.

Worth the Wait

If you’ve yet to find “your people”—hold tight, it’s coming. Like most good things, it requires patience, intention, and a willingness to mess up a little along the way. Your people, the ones who feel like home, might not appear in a dramatic movie montage. It’s more likely they’ll show up in the quiet, unexpected moments—a laugh you didn’t know your soul needed, a kindness that feels like grace. They'll challenge you while lifting you higher, helping you become the truest version of yourself.

So how do you know when you’ve found them? Simple: they’ll make you feel seen. Completely, unmistakably seen.

If I can say one last thing? Don’t lose hope. Whether it’s over porch swings, biscuits, or bourbon in the warm glow of a Southern sunset, you’ll know when you’ve found them. And trust me—the wait will be worth it.