How I Found My Tribe: Two Divorces and A Cardiac Arrest Later
Growing up, I never had a sense of belonging anywhere. I lived in a home that experienced domestic violence and physical abuse, and by the time I was 17 years old, we had moved 26 times. I often refer to my childhood as having “survived it.” With very little joy and even fewer friends because we moved around so much, I struggled with depression and never really learned how to make lasting friends. Books helped me to survive, and I was a voracious reader as a child.
By the time I was an adult and divorced not once but twice, I resigned myself to the fact that I would just live an existence without a sense of community or belonging. That having a group of friends was only for “other people.” After my first divorce, I became a single mom with two little girls and had just lost my job. I had also lost my friends and found family because everything I had become and experienced while married was tied to my husband.
Fast forward a few years and a second marriage, we had a son. While I was in labor with him, I experienced an Amniotic Fluid Embolism and went into cardiac arrest. After doing chest compressions for 17 minutes, they were gonna call my death. But a nurse named Wendy wouldn’t give up, and at 19 minutes they found a steady heart rate.
While that’s a story for another day, it was a very traumatic experience that left me feeling utterly broken. As a woman, as a wife, and as a mother, I just felt shattered. And as life would have it, we divorced. Again, I felt lonely, and I felt loss, not only because it was another broken relationship but because the world I had lived in and created while married was tied to him. My sense of community was tied to him. Many of my friends were tied to him.
For so long, I struggled to make friends and to feel a sense of belonging. Growing up, I never learned those skills, and I was always envious of others who seemed to make friends with people so quickly.
But all that has changed. Last year, after having not read a book in quite a while, I picked one up, and it sucked me in. Almost one year and fifty-five books later, I rekindled my love for reading. Not only did I find books again, but I also found a large community of readers on social media who shared my passion. And they became my friends, my people. But I wanted more.
I wanted to meet them, get to know them, socialize with them, and share about books and life. I wanted them to become my friends, not through marriage but friends to call my own—friends who wouldn’t walk away because of a broken relationship—real friends who would stick by me—friends who shared my interests.
So, I started a community of like-minded women who meet via Zoom once a month and sometimes get together in person. We drink, we laugh, and we share stories. And just like that, I’ve found so many other women who have similar stories, some who survived tough things, and some who were just looking for their tribe, too. And I've felt a sense of community for the first time.
Making friends as a grown-up is hard. And so many times, we think we can just go at it alone. So many times, we believe we don’t need anybody; we don’t need any help. Well, I’m here to tell you that’s just not true. Science has proven that we need people, we need community, and we need to socialize. In general, we’ll live healthier lives, and we’ll live longer. But after the pandemic, it’s only gotten more challenging to accomplish. It’s so easy to just “stay home.” It’s easy to just stick to having conversations via text or messaging. Our kids are learning this, too.
What if we try harder to engage with others? What if we show up for that function or join a gym instead of working out at home? What if we gather a group of like-minded people and show up for each other? What would happen to our energy? Our confidence? What would happen to our health, to our happiness? I bet we’d feel better. I know I did. I have felt more creative, inspired, and alive because I’ve chosen to put myself out there and not give up on humanity.
And I’m willing to bet you could, too.