We’re All Just Looking for Each Other

Last night, a group of strangers gathered in my office with magazines, glue sticks, poster boards, and visions for the future. Everyone left as friends.

We came together to make vision boards. Manifest. Start the month (and mid-year) with intention. But what happened felt greater than a simple vision.

We talked about what we wanted to call in—love, clarity, peace, career change, community—but underneath every word was something more human. A quiet thread that kept showing up in the conversation, in our body language, in the way we lingered after the event officially “ended.”

Loneliness.

Not the kind that screams, but the kind that hums in the background. Loneliness that makes you wonder if you’re the only one feeling this way.

You’re not.

What I felt most clearly last night is that we’re all carrying some version of this ache. We want to be seen. We want to sit across from someone who really gets it. We want to feel less weird, less alone, less like we’re the only one trying to figure out how to live a life that actually feels like ours.

And that kind of community—where people gather without pretense or performance—is rare, but it’s not impossible. I saw it flicker last night in the way someone cut out a word and passed it to the person next to them because “I think this belongs to you.” In the way people paused between sentences like they were giving space for truth to surface. In the way we didn’t rush to leave.

This is what I want more of.

Spaces that hold people without needing them to be fully healed. Tables where you can show up messy, or unsure, or just looking for a sign. Moments where connection doesn’t have to be earned—it’s just offered.

That’s why I created the Well Collective.

Because we don’t need more perfectly curated groups or performative community. We need real connection. Spaces where people can sit beside each other and say, “Me too,” without fear of being misunderstood. A space where healing isn’t the prerequisite, but the byproduct of being held.

Right now, I’m gathering the founding members—the first people who will help shape what this collective becomes. Not just as participants, but as co-creators. The people who believe that community should feel soft and real and human. That it can be both intentional and imperfect, and we don’t have to do it alone.

The Well Collective is for people who want to build something deeper than group chats or Instagram DMs. People who crave conversation that goes beyond the surface. People who want to practice showing up—fully, honestly, consistently—and be met with care.

If you’re reading this and you’ve been feeling the ache, I hope this reminds you: it’s not just you. You’re not too late, or too much, or too far behind. You’re just human. And most of us are looking for each other in the quietest, most tender ways.

So join us.

Pull up a chair.

Become a founding member of the Well Collective. We’ll meet monthly—virtually and IRL—to connect, reflect, and build something real together.

Bring your mess, your questions, your quiet longing. You don’t need to have it all figured out—you just need to come.