Finding My People
When I first watched Grey’s Anatomy years ago, I was intrigued by the idea of finding what the show called “your person” - someone who would understand you on such a deep level that it’s easy to form a powerful bond.
It took me a long time, but on my recent trip to New Zealand, I finally found “my people.”
I was hoping it would happen. I’d been planning this trip since I was fourteen and read an article about a tour company that led people throughout Middle-Earth. There were “normal” destinations too, but I let the article fill my head with descriptions of running through Edoras, reenacting battles on the Pelennor Fields, and eating second breakfast in Hobbiton with people who would enjoy it just as much as me.
It didn’t take me long to realize that, after so many years of searching, I found “my people.” I didn’t even make it to the introductory dinner before I met people who appreciated my Lord of the Rings t-shirt and shared their plans for playing music and cosplaying in Hobbiton.
When I sent pictures home, my family and friends commented that they had never seen me smile so wide, and yet it looked completely natural. A major part of it was going on a trip I’ve dreamed of most of my life, but an equally big part was going with people who I felt like I had known forever even though we had just met.
It was the only time in my life when I felt like I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else or worry about how much of my true personality I was letting slip through, and people liked me anyway.
This is a mindset I’ve never been used to after growing up as someone weird, strange, odd. I was often called a freak when I wasn’t able to hide what was going on in my head. And in terms of the positive obsessions that kept me above water, I learned to hide this part of myself even though it was my favorite part, the thing about me that brought the most joy to my life.
As an adult, I learned to let my passions out in certain situations. I started dressing up and going to conventions, but it always felt too short. It’s hard to make a deep bond in two days, especially when most of my time at conventions is split between rushing to make panels, carefully planning my shopping, and entering Magic: The Gathering tournaments.
But this trip felt like the euphoria of the annual elf party at DragonCon for 18 days straight, and I couldn’t have been happier if I tried. Instead of trying to adapt myself to everyone else, I was finally with a group of people who I could understand and who were just like me - people who made me feel like I belonged without having to do anything other than be myself. There was no acting, faking, or overthinking - something that’s hard to even imagine as someone who always had to choreograph my social life.
But I was not the only person who cried with joy when buying replica swords at Weta Workshop or frolicking in an elf dress in the forest. I had a real fight on my hands with the trivia competition, with people who cared about Tolkien and his world as much as I did. I had people to sit with on the bus and at every meal, spend time with every evening after our tour activities ended, and discuss every topic I had ever been told was “too weird” and “no one would ever be interested in.”
Being with this group of people made me brave. I tried more new foods on this trip than I ever have. I did adventure activities that scared me and toughed it out even when the fear really started getting to me. I did all sorts of things I could never imagine myself doing, from riding a gondola to the highest heights of a city to receiving sincere “yearbook” messages in my journal instead of the phony messages I always got in school.
Very, very long story short, I have - after thirty years of searching - found “my people.” I will continue to tell stories of this life-changing trip over the next several weeks on my blog and photo series, and look forward to sharing so many of the moments I never believed I could have.
I finally, finally fit in. As myself, no acting, no games. Just me. And I couldn’t be happier.
Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.