I’ve been thinking a lot about the importance of having “your people” lately.

Life has settled down enough (ok no it hasn’t we are still traveling and having a ton of visitors, but I anticipate it settling eventually) for us to realize that we don’t actually have any people here in Georgia.

Don’t get me wrong, I really like Georgia. I like how close we are to other states, the humidity, the trees, and the history, but what I don’t like is that if I had an emergency and Mr. Spreadsheets was out of town that we would be… well to put it bluntly… screwed.

This isn’t a pity party, I’m not a glass half empty kinda gal, but I am a “it might be time to think about getting some more milk” kinda person.

Finding your people is hard. There’s the balance of not appearing too desperate to have new people, while also going out of your way to find new people. There’s the awkward introductions, the small talk (oh I hate small talk), trying to find people who don’t find you too annoying, and trying not to say anything too nutty. There’s keeping your sarcastic comments to yourself, putting on makeup and cleanish clothes (ok seriously you all know that making mom friends often requires wearing cleaner clothes than normal), and trying to gather your thoughts enough to put complete sentences together.

And then there’s the one thing that makes finding people the hardest… admitting that you need people. I don’t like admitting I need people. I don’t like admitting I need to get out of the house without my family. I don’t like admitting that talking to my kids, my husband, and my students just isn’t enough. I don’t like admitting that even though I’m an introvert I need people, and that “going out with the girls” is one of those “filing” experiences for me. I don’t like all of those things. I am one of those “rock/island” sorta people so admitting that I need to find new people in Georgia is difficult and embarrassing.

Last night I went to dinner with some ladies from our church in Georgia. I was nervous all week about going, it seemed ridiculous to be nervous, and honestly how much thought really needs to go into meeting church ladies for dinner, but I was still nervous. I was nervous they wouldn’t like me, that I’d say something insane (cause I do that frequently), and that I’d be stuck in a new church congregation with a group of people that didn’t like me. I felt like a 3rd grader on the first day of school, not a great feeling.

Dinner was fine, they might not have liked me, but just going gave me the peace of mind that I can go out and meet new people, and hey they all seemed lovely. I’m sure I said crazy stuff,  and I still wish my Texas friends were there, but you know what- I ate an entire meal with people over the age of 30 and it was lovely.  AND I learned that I might not be the only new Georgia transplant who is coming to the realization that it’s time to find “people” in a new place, so that’s a win and I’ll worry about the rest another day.