Blue Zones: The Power of Community

The introduction to the Blue Zones has already been given. Check, check, check! We already covered what Blue Zones are, where they are located, and the habits of the people who live there that allow them to grow old so healthily.

The question that interests me most right now is: what does this mean for me, and how could my experience make the world a warmer place? Because the goal of this series isn’t to discuss what each of these healthy habits means for the people in the Blue Zones themselves—there are plenty of other sources for that. The goal isn’t to preach either, like: this is what you must do to live a healthy life. Yuck. There are already more than enough books like that out there. Instead, as a good twelve-stepper, I want to lead with my weaknesses. What was it like for me before recovery, what changed along the way, and where am I today?

I’m starting this series with one of the healthy habits from the Power 9 that I’ve practiced myself for years, but never realized how important it was—and that is “Right Tribe,” or, in other words, being part of a community!

Like most people, I’ve always been part of a group. Not a community, but a group. There’s a huge difference. As a kid and a student, I was part of a class. As a member of the all-girls youth club, I was—naturally—part of a group of girls my own age. And as a teacher, I was part of a team of teachers. I also had plenty of (fair-weather) friends with whom I often went to bars or restaurants. Lots of people around me, lots of groups to belong to. Yet, I often felt incredibly lonely. Not just when I was home alone, but just as much (or maybe even more?) when I was surrounded by all those people. I couldn't explain it, so I just rationalized it away. Why feel lonely with so many people around me? "Come on, pull yourself together, be happy!" I’d tell myself. Sometimes that worked, but often it didn't. That's why I started looking for ways to alleviate the loneliness. Searching for and chatting with strangers online felt good. Meeting up with them did, too. Because secretly, isn't everyone searching the internet for salvation, attention, and so-called love from others? Aren't you young and reckless for a reason? For me, it worked for a little while, but not for long. I stayed lonely, and it actually made me feel even lonelier. People around me, yes. People who could read my inner soul? No. I was dying of inner pain and loneliness, so I went to see a psychiatrist. "Ah, you sometimes have days or weeks full of way too many activities, and then you crash and spend just as long at home, tired and sad? Then you're bipolar. Here, take this terribly-numbing-medication-with-awful-side-effects, and you'll feel more normal." The diagnosis took just 7 minutes during a 15-minute consultation. Go figure. I was put on medication, and it didn't make me feel better at all. Drowsy, numb, and tired, with so many side effects that daily functioning became a struggle. It wasn't until years later, when I was truly suicidal and admitted to the psychiatric ward for the first time, that the psychiatrist there called the real problem by its name. Her diagnosis didn't fly out of the DSM; it came straight from her heart. She took me off all my medication immediately and started me on the long, slow process of realizing that I needed to cut certain people out of my life if I ever wanted to get out of this situation. Months later, I finally did, and that was effectively the true start of my recovery process.

Still, that didn't solve everything. Cutting people out is one thing, but what do you get in return? Exactly: less social contact and, ultimately, even more loneliness. Numbing the emotional pain remained necessary, and my addiction was thriving, even in 2020, the first year of my recovery process. A lot of therapy, a lot of talking, a lot of pain, and therefore a huge need for numbing. I ended up in a twelve-step community, a group of people who all want to stay clean and sober from the same drug. Until just a few weeks ago, I wasn't really aware of it, but since I’ve been in twelve-step recovery, I’ve rarely, if ever, felt lonely. Day and night, there are online meetings you can attend, and there are members from all over the world you can call. Every time I struggled with something, I could call someone and share it with them. By sharing it, part of the pain goes away. "Shared grief is halved grief," as the saying goes. Through those phone calls, I often felt connected to many members of the program, which stopped me from feeling lonely and took away the urge to numb myself. Community works. They often say that intimacy is just another way of saying 'into-me-see'—allowing someone else to look into your deepest, most private self. I always found that incredibly terrifying, but with a select circle of members, I managed to do it.

The meetings themselves, on the other hand, were a completely different story. For that reason, I viewed them more as a transfer of knowledge: we read a piece of text, you share what you know about it, I do the same, and that way we all learn something. I tried to maintain an emotional distance by becoming a meeting butterfly (a term I made up myself, so definitely don't take it too seriously!). Just like a butterfly flits from flower to flower, I flitted from group to group. Looking for a transfer of knowledge, for information, and above all, staying far away from into me see—from emotional intimacy.

And that’s why, after more than five years of meetings, I got fed up with it a while ago. I felt like I wasn't getting anything out of it anymore, and I was tired of putting so much into it myself. I was truly done with it, and I went looking for a new recovery community. The butterfly wanted to explore new horizons, and she did! In the beginning, it all seemed so beautiful, so promising, so rosy, but in the end, it turned out to be "good from afar, but far from good." For the first time in years, I felt lonely again. God, so, so, so lonely. Not for fifteen minutes every few months or so like before, but day in, day out, for weeks on end. I tried to convince myself that I could make it on my own. After all, don’t I have a strong faith to draw from, creative hobbies, and time I can fill in fun and rewarding ways? Absolutely, but when the feeling of loneliness sits beneath it all, all those activities turn out to be completely worthless. God felt very far away, and so did the pleasure and joy in life.

My loneliness turned into waves of depression. I told myself I wasn't really depressed, because for that, it needs to last for at least months. At the same time, I told a friend who feared she was developing depression that it’s not like catching a cold: it’s not an accident that suddenly happens to you, but a combination of many factors that drag on for a long time. That I was heading down that exact same path in my own life was something I couldn't recognize or admit back then.

Feeling lonely and isolated started to hurt. Emotionally and physically. It began to weigh heavily on me, and that after barely five weeks. I felt like a shadow of my former self. A very good friend expressed her concern, but I kept repeating how I no longer felt at home in the twelve-step program, and that I simply didn’t know what to do anymore. And it was then that the addiction—after 5.5 years of sobriety!—started pulling at me again with full force. I knew: I want to go back. I started attending meetings again, but this time not as a butterfly. Instead, I went as a human being who is no longer afraid of intimacy, of "into-me-see." Without having thought it through, but completely right and aligned with my soul, I knew it would be good for me to connect with the two groups that have always been close to my heart. One in the early afternoon, and one right before bedtime. Since then, I’ve been attending both online groups every single day, and I truly feel like a member of the community. Those people see the real Nathalie every day. No mask, no filter. I look forward to being with them, to hearing them share, and I feel safe enough to show my inner self every day. There is no judgment, no belittling—only acceptance, friendship, and love.

My loneliness is gone, and with it, the depressive feelings that came with it. I feel supported and valued by the community, and that truly changes everything.

I notice that my other relationships are becoming healthier again too. During those five weeks when I let go of my community, I noticed I was becoming remarkably codependent on the people around me again. I genuinely expected, craved, and hoped that they could make me feel loved and "whole again." I was demanding way too much attention, and it honestly made me sick to my stomach, but it was stronger than me. I needed their attention and love. Today, I notice that by being part of a community where I can share my inner self, I am emotionally healthier again. And that emotional health apparently translates into physical health too. When I video-called that same friend last week—the one who had expressed her concern earlier—she said, "Nathalie, you look stunning today!" I thought that was incredible. I’ve been going through an emotionally challenging time for a few weeks now, yet she thought I looked good! My problems were the exact same as a week prior, but because I feel supported by the community, it’s as if my spirit can actually handle it, which immediately shows in physical strength and health. Mind-blowing, isn't it?

Yesterday, I heard this quote in a video: "The real secret of living longer is not adding years to life, but adding life to years." There are many ways to add life to your years, but for me, being part of a community is absolutely a wonderful—and apparently necessary—way to do it. Connection, emotional safety, and intimacy bring healing to both the mind and the body. It’s not about the quantity of people around me—the past has certainly proven that—but rather whether I can be 100% myself around them. Can I cry in front of them, be a complete wreck, or get angry without being judged? Can I laugh, mess around, and just be exactly who I am? If the answer is yes, then those people are my "Right Tribe," just as defined in the Blue Zones' Power 9. And thank God, I am blessed with a Right Tribe like that. Thank God!


During my five weeks without my community, I realized that being part of something like this is far from easy. I am a person of faith, but I’m not religious at all. Because of that, a church community didn't appeal to me. But where do you go to find your people, to become part of a community? Where do you meet people you can always count on, who know and accept you through and through? It’s not that simple, as I found out. How is that for you? Who is your "Right Tribe"? Do you have any experiences or tips you'd like to share here?