[The post below is a follow up to my last edition entitled, Wired for care. If you haven’t read that yet, I recommend doing so first.]
In the last edition, I asked a question: How are you building a village in your own life? What follows is a wonderfully diverse array of responses from both readers and my own experience. The list is separated into three sections: mindset shifts, communication shifts, and habit shifts.
One thing that’s true about most of these recommendations is that they go against the grain of modern life. Doing them may involve some discomfort, or require you to do something that seems a little weird or intrusive at first, or even run the risk of overstepping a social/cultural norm or boundary.
I think that risk is worth it. Remember that a lot of what we’re trying to counteract here is what Esther Perel called “social atrophy.” I now see my own discomfort in these moments in a different light: A sign that I am on the right path. That I am actively building a muscle and trying to model a kind of behavior that so many humans would be better off for engaging in. My mistake before was thinking this should feel easy and natural — it’s not!
Though this village conversation is often framed around how hard it is to be a parent, the problem is so much more expansive than that. It’s about the fact that so many of us feel we’re lacking in real-life, physical connection and support from one another. One reader used the phrase “webs of obligation” to describe what we’re talking about here. I can’t think of a more perfect image to counteract the linear, identity-obsessed (hello, parents versus non-parents discourse), and individualistic mode that our culture wants us to operate in.
I’ve put contributions that are from readers/commenters in italics, my own are in regular type. If the contributor has a Substack publication, I’ve also tagged them, so you can click through and find their publication. Thank you to the 50+ of you who responded, commented, and emailed. You inspire me!
Mindset shifts
You don’t need friends, you need people. Kurt Vonnegut wrote that most marriages fail because they don’t have enough people in them:
“You should know that when a husband or wife fight, it may seem to be about money or sex or power. But what they’re really yelling to each other about is loneliness. What they’re really saying is, ‘you’re not enough people.’”
He goes onto say that in order to recreate the “like-minded, extended families of fifty people or more” we should “join all sorts of organizations, no matter how ridiculous, simply to get more people in his or her life.” (I first came across Vonnegut’s idea in this great piece from
entitled You Need 50 People.)This reframe has really helped me as I try to meet new people since we moved in April. Every person I make an effort to get to know doesn’t have to tick every friendship box of my twenties: cool job, nice style, listens to the same podcasts, shares the same politics etc. I already have those friends. It’s okay if the only thing I have in common with a new person is the proximity of where we live, and the age of our child, and the fact that we both don’t work on Fridays. I’m looking for people, not friends. If they turn into the latter, then great.
I remember when I arrived at our new house after a hellacious day of moving with a cat and a toddler, my brother-in-law and his wife were there with snacks, helping out, making jokes, and just generally not being exhausted and frayed. Just their presence dialled down the pressure cooker that is created when two stressed out people are constantly together. All they had to do was be there. My husband and I immediately had a sense that we’d gained the thing we’d been missing: more people.
Consider: What does this give back to me? I recently took on an allotment, which means I’m now responsible for cultivating roughly 50 square meters of land for food or flowers all year. As a person who regularly complains about how much she has to do, this is kind of an insane choice. I thought hard about doing it, what I was signing up for, and crucially what it might give back to me. I realized that in addition to signing up for a lot of manual labor, I was also opting into a relationship: with the land itself, the allotment community and its history, and the people who also have land there. This energy expenditure aligns with almost every single thing I hope to do in my life: meet more people, build skills that don’t involve a screen or the internet, move more, be closer to the food I eat, and teach my son about the natural world. Every time I open the gate, I can feel my nervous system relax.
Two other readers spoke to the counterintuitive idea that more care, done communally, can actually give you energy back, even when you’re burned out:
I have four kids under 9, and this summer I was thoroughly depressed staying home with them. Everything was too much. Then I started working at my son’s preschool, which I thought would drain me even further. But it did the opposite- now I take care of even more kids but I get to do it in a community of other caregivers. We laugh together and work together to give the kids the best day possible. I don’t have to be the one to meet all my son’s needs- someone else can pick him up when he cries while I pick up other crying kids. It’s really shocked me- but this is helping my mental health by leaps and bounds. Wish that at-home life could feel similar. A village feel –
To plant some more care into my life, I’ve recently started volunteering with an organization that supports recent immigrants who are getting their footing in the U.S. I’ve been meeting weekly with a woman from Algeria and have found that I really enjoy not only becoming her friend but also helping her navigate her new life. The experience has become one of care for me, and I find myself feeling much, much better on the afternoons we spend together. -
Adopt a new posture. “Unfortunately, the rug had to be pulled out from under me (divorce + cancer) to force my vulnerability and care acceptance. But oh my, once I opened up, the generosity of my real life community absolutely floored me. I forced myself to adopt a posture of ‘thanks, and here’s my meal train link!’ whenever someone asked ‘what can I do?’ Telling myself to ALWAYS say yes to help made it easier, and in turn, has made this very trying experience so beautiful.” –
Communication shifts
Be the person who asks twice. “For the most part, it took showing up in person regularly. Being proactive when introducing myself and sharing contact/social info. Making time to say yes to other people's invitations and trying to say yes the first time I'm asked—most people don't ask twice. Be the person who asks twice (or more!)” -Tiffany Cartwright. I absolutely love this advice. Definitely ask more than twice if you’re dealing with new moms/parents of small children.
Do not say “let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Remove this sentence from your vocabulary. Why? Because people — especially stressed out people who have just gone through an illness/trauma/life earthquake/had a baby — don’t have the capacity to even know what they need. Instead, offer them multiple choice options of what you can offer. “I can come over on Saturday or Sunday between these hours and A) Walk your dog and do any outdoor chores B) bring over a meal/groceries and sit and chat with you C) Do any batch cooking you need done while you nap. You can choose which option will be the most helpful when I arrive.”
wrote a truly perfect primer on this for offering help to new parents, and I think her advice is widely applicable beyond that.Give time horizons. One common sticking point is is making plans. The admin of going back and forth trying to figure out when a person is free can be exhausting and feels like too much work. I’ve found it’s very helpful to give people a sense of when you are usually free to increase the odds of things working out.
Recently, when a pub meet-up failed to happen because the other party was running late, I said “Don’t worry at all! We’d love to try another weekend and are almost always free for this kind of thing between 3-6pm on Sundays. We’ll try again.” Similarly, another mom I know who doesn’t work on Wednesdays invited me round for an afternoon playdate / cup of tea because I’d mentioned I am always looking for things to do on Wednesday afternoons. When she texted me a few hours before to see if I wanted to “call in,” as they say in Yorkshire, I felt like I’d won a coveted social invitation.
Join your neighbourhood WhatsApp group. These things have been kind of demonized for being hotbeds of gossip and pettiness (honestly I kind of love gossip and pettiness when I’m not involved?) but I think they are great. Cat sitting requests, neighborhood watch, offers for free toys, plants, and home goods. Sign me up.
Related: Say hello to your neighbors and take your AirPods out once in a while.
Habit shifts
Get into consistency and rituals. Place-based connections require physically being somewhere and doing the same kinds of things week to week. If you want this, you might have to change your life so there is a bit more air in it. Traveling all the time may be aspirational and fun, but I think it definitely comes at the expense of building community.
I’ve been making a conscious effort to go to same toddler group, same cafes, same Saturday morning Pilates class, and the same couple of pubs every week. Even if I don’t feel like it sometimes. In a weird way, this kind of boring routine opens up the possibility for spontaneity. If people know you’re probably going to be around next week, they are more likely to cross over the chasm and introduce themselves. I gather this is why church is a thing by the way! One reader mentioned that they wouldn’t have community if not for their church.
Quantity time leads to quality time: What a lot of people miss about this kind of village building is that it takes "quantity time" to get the quality time. People don't ask for help from those who are never in a position to see them when they're vulnerable. It's so easy to turn down an afternoon coffee or a playdate or a girl's game night because it seems so trivial, but those are the times when, in between setting out snacks or playing bunco, you find out what your friends really need. –Bucket Mouse
Stop obsessing over reciprocation. I’m hosting a lot of play dates to try and help other families (it has often made it easier for me, too!). Some families return the favour. Not all do but that’s ok, I’m glad we’re in a position where I have the home, the budget and the time to do it and it’s nice to pay that privilege forward. –
Before you cancel, have a stern chat with yourself. A couple times in the last few months, I’ve made a plan with someone and then told my partner I feel like canceling. He helpfully, but also annoyingly, presses me: Is this choice consistent with what you actually want?
Look, we’re all tired and over-scheduled and burned out. But canceling as a form of self care is definitely something that perpetuates this dynamic we all seem to hate. There is an element here of snapping out of our Covid-era cocoons, leaving the house when we don’t feel like it, and allowing people to see us when we’re not at our best. I think this is especially relevant if you’re dancing with depression. Depression will always tell you to cancel, but sometimes the most caring thing you can do for yourself is power through that feeling and go anyway. You might just end up feeling two percent better.
There was so much more I could say and include. But I think that’s enough for now. If you feel overwhelmed and like the path to the village you want is too long, don’t wallow there. Just pick one or two from the list above and get started. As one reader explained, one single act of care and connection can result in a lot more:
This summer, I found myself caretaking in a new way - my dog was diagnosed with leukemia earlier this year, and declined rapidly this summer. We moved to a new place a year ago, but when my dog Oliver was diagnosed, a friend dropped off a little care package that included treats for us and our pup. That simple act launched this friendship into new territory, and since then we have depended on one another for caretaking support — they came by and sat with our dog when we couldn’t be home during some of his sickest episodes; I have helped them move into a new home and brought them dinner when their dog was having surgery. After we had to put sweet Ollie down, they came and picked up all of his food and treats to donate to the humane society, which I couldn’t face doing myself. I just wanted to chime in to say that even people without kids need caretaking support, and that initiating that kind of relationship with friends can change everything! -Meaghan
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"Every person I make an effort to get to know doesn’t have to tick every friendship box of my twenties: cool job, nice style, listens to the same podcasts, shares the same politics etc."
When I was in my late twenties, a friend of mine that was in his early forties said to me while we were on a walk "I don't care about interesting people anymore, I just want good people." That changed my life.
All that to say, another way of building a village is to make sure you get in touch with a diverse group of people. Different ages, backgrounds, genders, abilities... They might hand down a bit of wisdom that transforms you for ever and for good.
Very validating.
My wife and I travel a lot. Every 2-3 years we change countries because of her work. You can probably guess how difficult it is to uproot your life this often...
But now we have it down to a science.
Whenever we go somewhere new we have a list:
1. Find the queer community, if there isn't one, start it. Set up monthly meet-ups
2. Find the hiking community, if there isn't any, start it. Set up monthly hikes.
3. I find the running community.
4. My wife finds the rugby club.
5. Find a place to volunteer.
6. Find the GGI group.
It does take a village, some times it is there to be found, other times you build it.