The best things about finding the right kind of community

I grew up as part of a tightly-knit religious community.  It’s a very closed, secretive group and when I decided I could no longer be a part of it, I part jumped/was part booted out and found myself very alone.  With a new baby, an imploded marriage and most of the people I’d spent the first twenty four years of my life with now crossing the street rather than look at me (their policy on shunning is pretty severe) I spiralled into depression.

Wind forwards sixteen years and I’m happy and healthy again.  I’m at the centre of a network of people of my own making and I smile a lot these days.

How did I get here?

There is no doubt that humans are hard-wired to function as part of a community.  I’ll concede that we all crave personal space and solitude sometimes but study after study has shown that people are happier and healthier for longer if they live within a social network.

There are, of course, problems with the above: relationships can be toxic; can break down; can be subject to harmful conditions and a whole myriad of other issues.

But consider the theory that pre-historic Homo Sapiens outlived the stronger and physically more able Neanderthals because they had the mental ability and drive to build strong relationships outside of the clan.  (This article from the Guardian in 2013 makes for some interesting reading.)  Networks are so important to us that perhaps we could adopt or find ourselves staying within a less than beneficial group out of necessity.

Looking back, I have no doubt at all that the biggest contributing factor to my poor mental health in my twenties was loss of community.  This is why I now regularly visit pages on Facebook to help those who have just left my old religious group to come to terms with their loss.  It’s a grieving process that is all at once liberating but also deeply upsetting and the religion’s shunning policy is one of their biggest tools to suck former members back into the fold (unfortunately, it leads some people to suicide).

But things do get better, life does improve and you can build a new support network.

So, I’ll not focus on the negative here but rather the ideas I would have like to have shared with my newly free but utterly deflated twenty four year old self (and these are things that I regularly share on those Facebook pages):

• It takes time. It’s weeks, months, years of talking, texting and meeting up. Sometimes there are times when you fall out with someone, offend them or rub them up the wrong way but coming back from these situations and carrying on regardless makes for stronger links. ‘Bumping along’ as my Dad would say.
• We have so much to learn from each other. Whether you are twelve or ninety two, I have something to learn from you and your view of the world and you from me. When we stop learning, we die.
• Don’t be afraid to give. The singer Macy Gray sings “spread your rubber lovin’ and it bounces back to you” and I love this concept. The goodness you send out may hit a few walls or pavements before it comes back but it will – and rarely in the form you sent it out in.
• Learn to trust because people are rarely inherently bad. They can be damaged, a little broken, strange in their reactions and strange in their habits but trust your gut and build links with people who make you happy.
• Remember that sometimes you have no choice but to distance yourself from those who constantly dent your self-esteem. It’s just not worth it.
• Finding the balance between self and community isn’t an exact science. You have to sacrifice personal choice and comfort to one extent or another in return for the rewards of being part of a community but others will have done the same for you.
• Sometimes you get to choose your companions, sometimes you don’t. Whilst I genuinely loved the community which I grew up in, the sinister controls behind it were damaging. In order to stay, I would have to have given up so much of myself – in other words, the price was too high. So there are times when cracking out on your own and finding a new clan is the only thing you can do. This takes courage.

And it did take courage.

So I find myself with friends who are mothers, fathers, writers, entrepreneurs, painters, dancers and musicians. I think of the faces I see at my craft group, my toddler group, the parents at school, the houses of my family and friends and I see stories and a life shared. There is laughter in the lines, genuine interest behind the words and light in their eyes. Sometimes I hold my belly and throw my head back in laughter and at other times, I cup the tears for their sorrow in my hands – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And then there are the few friends that I grew up with who also left the religion. We have a very special connection that won’t ever go away.

I’ve built my community, my way and I feel very lucky to have been able to choose the people I want in it – but it’s not been easy.

And then there are the humans that have accepted me into theirs. I feel grateful to them too.

Here is where I have to stop blogging for today. A friend has taken my daughter to the park this morning so that I can write and they will be home again soon. I didn’t drink at quiz night at the pub last night so that I could drop her and her family home in the car. Sometimes, my back gate opens and her husband comes in with a tub of freshly made, fragrant curry that she’s made for my family and I’ll send him back with a warm chocolate cake for hers.

It’s the right kind of community for me and I feel so very thankful for it.