Support groups, community healing, and shared grief once terrified me. I was deeply cynical about group spaces and afraid of “drinking the Kool-Aid,” so for most of my life, I stayed away.
I tried joining churches of different religions but could never commit. In college, I rushed sororities two years in a row and always quit before pledging. I watched from the outside, convinced that groups weren’t for me.
Being Alone During IVF
When I went through IVF, I was living in France. It never occurred to me to look for English-speaking fertility support groups, and I didn’t reach out online either. Who were the people in these groups? Was the information they shared even accurate? Those questions stopped me cold. That was my risk-averse lawyer brain doing what it does best. In the end, I was alone in my suffering.
The Grief Group That Changed Everything
A year after my father died, I decided to join a grief support group in my town. I had heard good things about it—but of course, I didn’t go alone. I dragged my sister with me because I needed her, and she needed it too.
That’s when everything shifted.
We met once a week in a large group and then broke into smaller circles to process our grief. We could share or stay silent—no pressure. And for the first time in a group setting, I felt welcomed, seen, and heard.
What Community Healing Gave Me
It was one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. I learned how to speak openly about my feelings. Listening to others reminded me that I wasn’t alone. Watching how people moved through trauma and heartbreak showed me that healing looks different for everyone—and that I could learn from that.
I stayed in that group for eight months. Eight months that slowly softened my fear of community.
Fostering Without a Support System
When it came to fostering, I wanted to join a foster parents group. But it was the early days of the pandemic, and no one could meet in person. Online groups were just emerging, and I couldn’t find any in my local community.
It was a lost opportunity.
That kind of support could have helped us navigate our foster children’s trauma and the overwhelming challenges of working with their biological family. It could have given us tools—or at the very least, a place to vent. It might have connected us with other foster families who truly understood. It may even have influenced our decision to stop fostering.
Searching for the Right Community After Letting Go of Parenthood
Now that we’ve given up the pursuit of parenthood, I’ve searched for communities I might join. Honestly, I haven’t found one that fully resonates yet.
I attended a Childless Collective meeting, and while the work they do is meaningful, I still can’t get past that word: childless. If you know me, you know how I feel about it. The language matters. And for most groups I’ve found, that word is at the center—and it doesn’t fit me.
I’ve even considered starting my own group. But the truth is, I don’t want to be the leader. I want to be the quiet follower—the one who raises her hand occasionally but listens deeply and absorbs so much more.
What I Know Now About Group Healing
Joining groups can be powerful medicine for healing. But for me, it has to be the right one.
It’s a little like dating. You kiss a few frogs before you find the prince. And while the searching can be uncomfortable, it’s still worth it.
Because now I know this: community no longer terrifies me the way it once did. And somewhere out there, my group—my quiet, steady place of belonging—is waiting.
And this time, I’m open to finding it.
