Issue #13: I didn't find "my people" in college
Issue #13: I didn't find "my people" in college
Even though I really, really tried.
This issue is the second in a series we’re running this month on friendship.
If you missed last week’s essay (Aja discusses why she’s been a flaky friend — and what’s changed), you can catch up here.
I moved to Boston for my first job in 2013. I didn’t know anyone — I’d only been this far north a handful of times. When Danielle, my friend from a former internship, invited me to join the big Fourth of July weekend at her then-boyfriend’s New Hampshire house, I was an enthusiastic yes.
I started my job Tuesday. On Wednesday, I took the Red Line to South Station to start my journey up the coast. I had to be back at work Friday.
It would be an adventure, and I felt light years away from college in Chapel Hill.
Four years earlier, on sorority Bid Day, I’d looked around at girls cheering at the top of their lungs and pulling each other into tight embraces and felt like a stranger. There’s something wrong with me, I thought. I’d joined this sorority to build deep friendships; I just needed to give it more time.
In 2017, a college freshman at Cornell went viral for her brilliant, brutally honest video about the social anxiety that she felt in the first weeks and months on campus. In one of my favorite lines, she says, “Everyone told me: You just have to find your people.”
And I’d tried, I really tried.
I struck up conversation in the dining hall about upcoming parties, took shots on the dorm room floor, applied temporary tattoos to my cheek for each football game — everything short of joining my new sorority sisters at their weekly Bible study.
writes about being in her twenties and trying (and trying and trying!) to be whoever the boys she dated wanted her to be. That was me, for friends.Maybe they saw through my efforts. Maybe it simply wasn’t meant to be. But four years later, I still felt like most people were speaking a language I couldn’t understand — and maybe one, I was realizing, I didn’t want to learn.
When I tried to recruit friends to join me off-campus, or even the movies, I was often rejected. And when I finally felt comfortable enough to open up to a friend about a difficult experience, she turned away.
But four years later, I still felt like most people were speaking a language I couldn’t understand — and maybe one, I was realizing, I didn’t want to learn.
We sat across from each other at a picnic table on campus. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be friends anymore,” she said. I understood the subtext as if our conversation was closed captioned: If you want to be my friend, it needs to be easy. I don’t want to have to work for a friendship. And what I felt in my bones: You’re too much for me.
I stopped trying.
I yearned for high school, where we’d frequently burst into uncontrollable laughter during a musical sing-a-long, my best friend was there to crawl into bed with me after my first breakup, and, most importantly, we loved each other without prerequisites or qualifications.
Dr. Marisa Franco suggests that one of the secrets to finding — and keeping — friends in adulthood is the “acceptance prophecy.” “When people assume that others like them,” she says, “they become warmer, friendlier and more open.”
Tell yourself you’re wanted, and you’re more likely to act like yourself. Be your unashamed, unabashed self, and you’ll be more likely to attract the people who appreciate you. You’ll nurture and facilitate deeper relationships.
This effect is amplified by the “risk regulation theory,” which indicates we invest more in the relationships in which we fear rejection the least.
When I got off the bus in New Hampshire, I found myself back in the world I knew from high school, where acceptance was freely given and I wasn’t scared of rejection.
“Meet my friend, Aliza!” Danielle said, and I was immediately pulled in and enveloped by the group. We played beach volleyball, took walks down the coast, and circled up over a table of food as fireworks burst overhead.
At the end of the night, we filed downstairs to set up camp on the basement floor like second graders at a sleepover. I drifted off to the sound of whispers and youthful giggles.
The next morning, a few other kids heading back to their entry level jobs in Boston offered to give me a ride. As we got off the highway, we exchanged numbers and made some tentative plans to meet up soon. I didn’t let myself get my hopes up.
Then something miraculous happened — we did meet up. We went to yoga,1 then a dance party at Cambridge bar The Middle East. Soon, we started talking about the next weekend trip. “Aliza, you should come with us,” my new friends said.
Ten years later, Fourth of July has become an unofficial friendiversary.2 Those same friends hugged me before I walked down the aisle at my wedding, were by my side as soon as they could be when Jude was born, and proved it’s never too late to find real friendship.
I used to replay my college years over and over, wondering what I could have done differently to sow deeper friendships. Should I have gone to a different school? Looked for communities outside — instead — of Greek Life? I was ashamed of not easily fitting in or “finding my people.” It was a reflection of my worthiness as a friend — or that’s how it felt for a long time.
Ten years, and many more rewarding adult relationships later, I feel differently.
I used to replay my college years over and over, wondering what I could have done differently to sow deeper friendships.
A few months ago, I went on a walk with my friend Suzanne. The sun was down, and we’d just started to circle her block in the Back Bay for a second time, mutually agreeing that we didn’t want our conversation to end. At some point, the painful story of losing my first friend in college started to spill out of me: the story of getting dumped.
“It’s in the back of my mind all of the time,” I told her. “If I’d misjudged that situation so badly, how can I know I won’t do it again?”
Suzanne didn’t hesitate, immediately reassuring me of my worthiness as a friend.
If I hadn’t felt alienated in college, I never would have jumped on that bus to New Hampshire. I never would have met Suzanne or Emily or Chantal or Priya or Charlotte or Lauren — or Aja! And those more painful experiences in college, while I still don’t like to talk about them, have made me a better friend.
As a new mom, I’m entering another new friendship chapter too. I’m learning the process of “finding your people” never ends.
Fortunately, I’m entering this phase with more self-assurance than at 18.
Bonus Content:
When I called my best college friend Keren3 to help me with this story, she asked, “Will you include a photo of us together in college?” And because there’s nothing better than dorm room lighting, here you go 💛
And ICYMI: The most popular link from Monday’s roundup was this Untitled in Motion maxi dress. Further validation that I should wear it tomorrow night — and not take it off for the rest of the summer.
Next week, Aja’s delving into her adult friendships. We’ve also been working on something together to give you a glimpse into our own friendship — but you’ll have to wait a couple more weeks for that!
🩵, Aliza
My friend Emily will have to fact check me on this. But if I remember correctly, it was not just yoga, but GLOW yoga.
Four years ago, Sam and I brought together 20+ of our closest friends — including several people that I’d met 6 years earlier — over the Fourth of July weekend for a combined bachelor(ette) weekend. I’m not sure that one can ever be topped.
I didn’t leave college completely friend-less!
This is such an open, honest look into the ups and downs of creating lasting friendships. Thank you for writing it!
Living a good life means building strong connections; unfortunately, that process is anything but straightforward. Talking about it, though, makes us all feel less alone.