Community and Building Your Village

I’ve been thinking so much about this word, ‘community,’ particularly since the pandemic of 2020. Motherhood had already started to turn the wheels on humbling me, to not only receive help, but also to become more comfortable reaching out for it. Suddenly overnight during the pandemic there was such a collective struggle. Sure, some of us were cozy in our little bubbles, with a great excuse to never have to leave the house. “Hey! Can’t come over or make it into work today, the whole world is diseased!” But, if you’re like most people in the beginning of the pandemic, it was filled with anxiety around the unknown and grief with how many people were sick and dying alone. It was heartbreaking and helpless.

I, like many other hyper independent, “I-can-do-it-myself” type of people, supported others where I could and largely still had that fend for yourself to survive mentality. I could help others, but I was fine on my own, right? It served me well for many years, so why bother changing it now? But, I was already opened up to how much ease it brought into my life having any help with my kids and allowing me to take breaks where I could - which were incredibly few and far between. Was I really so fine on my own? Now I was looking at having a village in a different light.

I noticed how lonely it began to feel after several months of isolation with 2 young kids and a husband who still was working. I felt physical ache over the stories of loved ones dying in hospital beds alone or over iPads. I realized how comforting it was to have neighbors to hang out with outside and even those small moments of interactions kept me afloat. I read about the impact of local businesses and became more thoughtful where I bought my coffee or purchased art. In doing these seemingly small things, I felt more connected to this broader community. A community that, in all honesty, I used to keep my head down and walk right past. I had enough on my own plate, right? But I realized I was really missing something here. There was still something good in having a village. A village wasn’t just this family you’re assigned by blood, or at birth. A village was being surrounded by good people, who just want to be good people in this world and do good things in their lifetime. 

I often think about the domino effect of one kind gesture. You stir up the courage to say “hello” to someone, which leads to a conversation, which leads to an insight or encouragement, which maybe leads to that next new idea you come up with, or leads to exchanging numbers and scheduling a future playdate with your kids. For anyone who is isolated, overwhelmed, lonely, and depressed - an interaction like this can begin to shift the trajectory of someone’s life. Our community, our village, is a positive disruption to the ways in which we’re living. They add value, they make life richer. They add support and opportunity and belonging when we need it the most. And for those who struggle within their own families, the idea of building your own village brings hope that life can look different and feel better.

My super hyper independent part still likes to be known, and to be real - I actually like keeping this part of myself around. I’m really proud of all I’ve accomplished with it at the forefront of the helm. But I’m also not gonna lie - it enjoys catching a break from time to time. To enjoy ease and marinate in it as long as life allows. Have I wildly changed? I don’t know, I guess it’s hard to quantify that. I think it’s a process still in motion. What I do know is that I know my neighbors names. We make birthday cards and bake holiday treats for them. We spend time talking on the stoop, like in the ‘good ole days.’ I park my car to go inside locally run cafes over corporate drive thrus. I look for local artisans to buy candles and art more often than some tech based factory. I try to boost my friend’s businesses and creative ideas. I started my own private practice so I can finally work with clients that I align with and give them the best version of my therapist self in sessions. I am satisfied to work without sacrificing my own well being as I’ve done in the past, in order to help others, in order to nurture the growth of my own community. I write down important dates like death anniversaries, upcoming surgeries and important appointments, and I check in with those I love accordingly. And as I approach (what I assume to be) the second half of my life, I have realized it is not just one or two things that make a good life. It’s all of this, supporting and being supported, that makes a good life. And I’m here for it. I encourage you to build your own community, your own little village, filled with people who restore your faith in the world and make you want to keep going.