Can Anyone Hear Me? A Journey into the Heart of Community

Over the past five years, I’ve been on a journey that’s sparked a deep curiosity about how we form and nurture connections in relationships. At first, I thought, It’s just me. Once again, I found myself as the "new kid"—not only starting a new chapter in life but also navigating a new place. Lately, I’ve come to realize it’s not just me. While I won’t place all the blame on you, there’s definitely an us problem when it comes to our ability to truly connect in today’s world.

The Challenges of Modern Society

Modern society isn’t making it any easier. With the pressures of the pandemic, shifts in feminism and the political climate, growing mental health awareness, and the sheer overwhelm of parenthood, I find myself wondering: Where, and how, are we supposed to find our people?

Is it possible that the idea of “finding our people” has become unclear or even unattainable? Before you tune me out, throw stones, or rage-read through this, I’d like to explore a few points I’ve been considering. And please note the word considering. Like you, I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring things out, taking time to explore these themes rather than waving a frustrated flag that says, “We’re all doomed.”

Modern Society: When Did Friendships Start Feeling Like Online Dating?

For many, virtual connection has opened doors to personal and professional opportunities. For me, it’s been a lifeline—allowing me to stay connected to my beloved community after a surprising move and to find balance between parenthood and maintaining my professional identity. But there’s another side to this. Virtual connection can sometimes create a facade that stands in the way of real connection.

I often find myself creating a narrative about someone before I’ve even truly met them, leading to disappointment when reality doesn’t align with my expectations. In a natural environment, those barriers might dissolve, allowing surprising relationships to blossom. But online, those walls can prevent us from getting to that point.

Modern technology gives us an easy out. Did I really leave that text unread because I was too tired, or was I waiting for a better offer? Are those missed emails truly lost in the clutter, or am I hiding behind the noise? Sometimes it feels like I'm embracing the comfort of avoidance rather than engaging fully.

What would happen if we disconnected? If we stopped the anxious scrolling and picture-perfect (or perfectly imperfect) performances for others? Who would reach out if we weren’t participating in this alternate reality? The real question is: if they’re not reaching out (or if you’re hesitant to), are these really your people, or are we wasting time?

Pandemic, Politics, and Modern Feminism

I’m lumping these together, not because they don’t each deserve their own weight, but because so much research has already been done on how these factors have shaped modern psychology. The truth is, people are scared to be themselves. We live in a world full of extreme judgments—sometimes harsh and unforgiving.

Even those we once celebrated as “unicorns,” the peacekeepers or neutral voices, are no longer safe from criticism. It’s isolating to be in the middle, to sit in the gray. Society seems to demand that we pick a side—you’re either with us or against us.

This has led to a dynamic where people feel bullied into choosing their communities out of scarcity, rather than connection. Outside of blatant racism and harmful behavior, why can’t we hold space for those who are still learning or have different beliefs? Are we truly open-minded, or is that just buzzword language that makes us feel good?

At the end of the day, do all your friends look and act the same? I’m guilty of this, too. Moving outside my usual circle has shown me how my “diverse” group wasn’t as diverse as I thought. My complacency, disguised as grateful comfort, has been eye-opening.

I’m not saying we should feel unsafe—we can’t form real connections without a foundation of safety. But are we truly creating safe spaces, both physically and mentally, when we show up? Do you feel safe? I know I don’t. So how do we get there?

Mental Health, Well-Being, and the Gimmick Trap

Ouch. That one stings a little. First, let me say this: I’m not your provider, and despite my constant curiosity about human behavior, none of us—myself included—can diagnose ourselves (or anyone else) on a day-to-day basis. If you’re struggling with mental health, impulsivity, substance use, or learning differences, it’s important to see a professional. Not all professionals are created equal, and not all have the background to diagnose everything we’re seeing online.

If you’re reading this as an interested client of Megan Rowe Counseling, please know that I will only ever serve you within my scope. If there’s something we need to explore further, I promise we’ll have that conversation together, not about you. And if I feel I’m not the best fit, I have many trusted colleagues that we can walk toward—together.

That being said, a diagnosis should be a tool, not a label to justify or perpetuate a struggle. Yes, there is real truth to the rise in trauma responses, ADHD, anxiety, and depression. We have more science and information today. We are also in a beautiful space of acknowledging these challenges instead of feeding stigma.

However, we’re also bombarded by unvetted information—whether it’s a BuzzFeed quiz diagnosing introversion or a social media post about mental health (and yes, I’m guilty of the 4 AM scroll too). It’s easy to get stuck in the diagnosis rather than moving toward solutions.

Is this flood of information keeping us from finding our people? From building community and true friendships? I wonder…

Redefining Community

What am I trying to say here? Let’s redefine community. While we’re in this limbo of “finding our people” and building deep, lifelong friendships, let’s acknowledge that community can look different in the meantime—and that’s okay.

For example, if you’re someone who feels the weight of vulnerability hangovers and only needs 2-3 meaningful connections, but you’re not finding those people yet, can you let smaller support systems fill in for now? Can knowing you have good providers in your corner feel like a form of community? Can a shared, understanding nod from another mom in passing while shuffling kids bring a sense of connection for that day? What about the witty conversation you have with your regular barista?

I’m not saying ask your PCP to grab coffee mid-exam with your favorite barista, but can we start to see these smaller connections as part of a larger journey toward finding our people?

Maybe that book club or community event you dragged yourself to isn’t about finding an instant connection. Maybe it’s more like When Harry Met Sally—it’s about consistency. Showing up where you are, in the season you’re in, might be what allows deeper connections to grow over time.

What’s Next?

So, what’s next? This—being here, being present. Look around at the people in your life, whether they're fleeting or consistent. Are we appreciating their effort, or are we letting awkwardness and societal bias shut down something that could grow into a fulfilling community?

Are we measuring our meaningful, yet quieter, interactions against the loud, picture-perfect images on social media? Are we filling our time with noise and missing the chance for real connection?

If you show up for yourself, others will show up for you. And if they’re truly your people, they’ll show up again. Sit through the discomfort. Sit through the awkwardness. Intentionally recognize and push through bias if you feel safe, and be consistent. Over and over and over.

Be Well.

Megan Rowe

Megan Rowe Counseling

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Authors, speakers and books that I have used while exploring this topic (in no particular order):

Braving the Wilderness by Brené Brown

Daring Greatly by Brené Brown

Hunt, Gather, Parent by Michaeleen Doucleff, PhD *This is from a parenting perspective of community but it has really inspired me on the overall theme of connection & community.

Robin Dunbar

Charles Vogl