Cultivating a Community of Kindness: Love, Discernment & Chosen Family

If there’s one thing adulthood has taught me, it’s that we don’t heal in isolation. No matter how strong or self-aware we are, we still need people. Safe people. Real people. Kind people.

Since leaving Michigan for undergrad in Atlanta, then moving even further away for law school in Florida, I’ve had to learn how to build community from scratch over and over again. I’ve had to figure out what it means to create family—not just rely on the one I was born into. Because the truth is, not all blood is good blood. And not all history deserves a future in your life.

I’ve spent most of my adult life learning how to surround myself with people who truly care. People who show up. Who make space for all of who I am—my growth, my passion, my softness, my strength, my silence. It’s taken discernment. It’s taken letting go. And it’s taken love.

Lately, I’ve been applying that same love and intention in a new way. My dad was recently diagnosed with vascular dementia. That news shook something loose in me. And now, I’m building a village for him too—using the strength of our family, his longtime friends, and the childhood connections I’ve kept alive over the years. Because we all need people, no matter our age or stage.

And honestly, that’s what this season is teaching me more than ever: it takes a mix. Sometimes our healing comes from blood, sometimes from chosen family, and sometimes from strangers who turn into soul-aligned friends. And that’s okay.

What matters most is how we build. With love. With grace. With discernment. It’s about being intentional with who we let in—because energy is real, and not everyone deserves access. It's okay to release people who can’t love you right. It's okay to create new definitions of family.

If you’re in a season where you’re trying to find your people or build something solid—start with kindness. Start with presence. Be what you’re looking for, and stay open to what you might not expect.

You don’t have to do life alone. You were never meant to.