We’ve all heard the saying “it takes a village.” Usually, it’s in reference to raising children — but honestly, it applies to almost every stage of life. We all crave connection, support, and a sense of belonging.
I’ll be honest: I’m an introvert. I do love people when the time is right, but being social doesn’t always come naturally to me. I need downtime to recharge, and sometimes I’d rather curl up with a book, my dog, or do literally anything other than go out and mingle. But over the years, I’ve learned something important — relationships don’t thrive in isolation.
My daughter, who’s a lot like me, had an epiphany recently, and I loved her perspective. One night, she called to say she was headed out to a friend’s house. As a middle-aged mom who comes home after work and immediately puts on her pajamas, I was flabbergasted — leaving the house at 9:00 p.m. seemed outrageous! She explained that, as cozy as she was at home, she had been invited to a farewell gathering for a friend who was leaving on an extended trip the next day. That same friend had shown up for my daughter’s surprise birthday party just a week prior. Then she said to me, “If you want a village, you have to be a villager.” What she meant was that sometimes you have to inconvenience yourself if you want people to inconvenience themselves for you.
It’s not about waiting for someone else to create the village. It’s about showing up — with empathy, consistency, and a willingness to be part of something bigger than yourself. Being a villager means putting down roots in relationships instead of keeping one foot out the door just in case you get hurt – yep, I did that for years. 🙋♀️. But on a serious note, being a villager means showing up for others the way you hope they’ll show up for you — even when it’s inconvenient, imperfect, or messy.
Honestly, I still struggle with this from time to time. I’m a very empathetic person, but I don’t always know the right timing or what I need to do. I’ve come to realize that part of it might be that I like to have control over situations. I appreciate when someone shows up for me, but I don’t like being vulnerable so it comes off as awkward and under appreciated. I’ve become so used to dealing with pain and grief alone that I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone. But the truth is, independence can only carry you so far before loneliness starts to settle in.
When my dad died, it was one of the first losses that truly rocked me. I can admit there were times I stayed away from funeral visitations, thinking “they’ll just think I’m being nosey.” But I’ll always remember the people who showed up for me — either at my door or during those daunting visiting hours.
When my first marriage failed, I thought everyone would think I was a failure, the exact opposite was true, I found out that my friends were true friends who showed up and supported me through my grief and self-loathing —they truly helped me heal. It shifted my whole perspective. I stopped waiting for the village to appear and started being part of one. And a few years later when another friend’s marriage dissolved, my girlfriends and I showed up and painted her entire house for her in order to move her son back into his home.
And honestly, one of the smallest gestures a friend ever made came right after my daughter left for university and we officially became empty-nesters. She showed up at my door with a tray of homemade squares, and not a single word was exchanged. She just handed them to my husband, told him to let me know if I wanted to talk, she was a phone call away, and that was it. I felt that deeply. Because in that quiet moment, it was someone saying, I see you. I’ve been there. You’re not alone
I realized that those who are truly there for me aren’t keeping score of how much they’ve done for me versus what I’ve done for them. It’s deeper than that. It’s about being intentional with your time, energy, and heart.
I know I’ve proudly professed throughout this blog how I’ve learned to say “no,” and I realize that can sometimes make me sound unapproachable. That’s not the case. Building a village doesn’t mean you have to be “on” all the time or say yes to everything. It’s about making a genuine effort in relationships — showing up consistently for the people you care about and creating a circle of trust and connection that carries you through life’s highs and lows.
Villages aren’t built overnight. They’re built moment by moment through shared laughter, hard conversations, acts of kindness, and even small check-ins that say “I see you.” You don’t need a big circle; you just need a few people who show up. But the key point I’m trying to make is: you have to be one of them.
I used to cringe at anyone who said “your vibe is your tribe” but I’ve realized that it’s true in the sense that your effort keeps attracting the people who resonate with your energy, values, and presence. The more authentic and intentional you are, the more your tribe naturally aligns with who you are.
And I’ve stopped joking about how I’d be perfectly happy living as a hermit in the woods.
Because the truth is, being a villager doesn’t just give you community, it helps you grow roots in connection, belonging, and trust. It’s not about perfection; it’s about participation.
So, if you’ve been feeling like you don’t have a village, ask yourself this:
Are you being a villager?
Are you showing up, reaching out, and letting yourself be seen?
Sometimes, the very thing we’re missing is waiting on the other side of our willingness to build it.
The Other Side of Nice 