🪺 From Isolation to Belonging
The Transformative Power of Purpose-Driven Communities
It was 6:15 AM when I saw the post that stopped me dead in my tracks. As I read the raw, vulnerable words of a mother in our online community, my heart raced and my breath caught. Her pain was palpable, describing a struggle so deep it made her envious of those with more "straightforward" diagnoses. She spoke of winging it through treatment, of doors opening only to reveal dead ends, of exhaustion so profound it bordered on despair.
In that moment, I was transported back to my own darkest times, when I felt utterly alone and unreachable. As the leader of this community for parents navigating autism and mental health challenges, I knew the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. But I froze.
For a full hour, I considered with how to respond. The intensity of her pain triggered my own memories of isolation and despair. I remembered the loneliness of perfect masking, of receiving compliments on "having it all together" when I was falling apart inside, dissociating just to make it through each day. This wasn't just empathy - it was a visceral, almost physical reaction to shared trauma.
This moment crystallized for me what real community means - and why it's so much more than a trend, a platform, or a marketing strategy. This experience made me reflect deeply on what we mean when we talk about 'community
When I talk about community, I'm not just referring to any group with a shared interest. Yes, brands like Lego and Patagonia have built impressive product communities, fostering connection among their customers. These are valuable in their own right.
But the communities I'm passionate about go deeper. They're about humans and their relationships with the world, usually centered around a shared topic of interest or life experience. These are the communities that can literally save lives.
These communities are purpose-driven spaces where people connect, grow, and co-create value. They prioritize relationships over reach, fostering deep, meaningful connections rather than chasing vanity metrics. In these communities, psychological safety is paramount - members feel safe to be vulnerable, to share their struggles without fear of judgment. When these elements come together, something remarkable happens.
These aren't spaces where people go to passively scroll. They're places of active engagement, where members belong, contribute, and stay involved because the experience is dynamic and meaningful. It's a web of mutual support, where members don't just take, but give, creating a cycle of reciprocal care.
The transformative potential of these communities is profound. They have the power to change lives, offering support, understanding, and opportunities for growth that members might not find elsewhere. A community like this requires ongoing nurturing and care, a long-term commitment to fostering connection.
That morning, faced with a member's raw pain, I witnessed the power of community in action. After taking a breath and consulting with our community's psychiatrist, I responded, acknowledging the depth of the mother's struggle. What unfolded next was beautiful - members responded with empathy, shared experiences, and genuine support.
One comment particularly stood out: "If you and I were in the same room, I would give you the longest hug and sob with you. I am with you. I've been where you are. I can't even type that without sobbing. The fight. The despair. The glimmers of hope. More despair. The meds working or making things worse. The utter exhaustion. The anger. The hope returning and then feeling crushed again."
This is what a transformative community looks like. It's not about having all the answers or fixing each other's problems. It's about being present, acknowledging the struggle, and reminding each other that we're not alone.
I personally focus on building and supporting these special communities - especially for people who are neurodivergent, seeking career growth amidst major challenges, or navigating the complexities of caring for high-needs children. These aren't just "nice to have" spaces. They're lifelines. My experience has taught me that intentionality is crucial when building these spaces.
If you're considering building a community, I urge you to dig deeper:
Who is it truly for?
Why would they come back, again and again?
What will they both give and receive by showing up?
How will you create and maintain psychological safety?
How will you show up when it gets tough - because it will get tough?
Because when done with heart, community isn't a checkbox or metric - it's living proof that human connection creates value in ways algorithms never will. It's a space where masks can come off, where vulnerability is met with compassion, and where no one has to face their struggles alone.
This work lights me up because I've seen its power firsthand. I've been the person drowning in silence, and I've been the community leader wrestling with how to respond to pain. I've seen how the power of community can pierce through the fog of depression and remind us that we're not alone.
So when you hear "You should start a community," remember: it's not about the platform, the metrics, or the trend. It's about creating a space where people can be truly seen, heard, and supported. It's about fostering connections that can literally save lives.
This is the real value of community - and it's worth every ounce of effort it takes to build and nurture it. What might emerge when you see community not as a platform to build, but as a culture to nurture? The possibilities are profound, and the impact can be life-changing.
I'd love to hear about your own experiences with community—the moments that have sustained you, the challenges you've faced, or the spaces you're dreaming of creating. Remember that building authentic connection isn't about perfection; it's about presence and persistence. And on the days when it feels overwhelming, know that your efforts matter deeply to those who find belonging in the spaces you help create.
I’m here to listen,
☕ This version of my newsletter will always be freely available with no paywall. If these resources and reflections on balancing career with caregiving have been valuable to you, you can support my continued work by buying me a coffee. Each cup helps create more content for our community of work-from-home parents.
