The Healing Power of Belonging
I’ve spent years as a keynote speaker talking about human connection, networking, and community building, but I’ll be the first to say I’m not a mental health expert.
However, I’ve learned firsthand what it feels like to be in the middle of a personal storm and rely on the people around you to help you see beyond it. A few years back, I went through a season where my mental well being kept running into walls. It was as though my usual optimism was hijacked by a sense of relentless doubt and exhaustion.
When I finally told a few friends about it, they did more than just say, “I’m here for you” — they scheduled calls with me every few days. They literally blocked time on their calendars to check in. We’d talk for ten or fifteen minutes, maybe half an hour, but those conversations became a lifeline that kept me tethered to the here and now.
The truth is, we’ve all heard the pitch about how networking can drive sales, build your career, or raise your profile. That’s valuable, sure. But what’s often missing from these discussions is how the human connections we form can be the difference between isolation and feeling seen when life throws us into the deep end. I’m not a licensed therapist or a mental health professional, but my personal journey taught me that our mental well-being isn’t just about working harder or digging deeper alone. Thinking positive thoughts is not possible when you are in crisis. Sometimes, it’s about leaning on the people who love us. It’s about being part of a community that sees us when our own eyes are clouded with doubt and worry.
This is the side of “networking” that rarely makes it onto conference agendas or into company training programs. We talk about tactics, like how to follow up with potential leads or how to create a compelling LinkedIn profile, but we don’t always address the heart of what it means to be in a professional community. A genuine community steps up for you when you’re struggling. A genuine community doesn’t just say, “Hey, how are you?” in passing — it checks in, day after day, because it truly wants to know the answer. In my worst moments, it was a few people in my community that stepped in, offering me empathy instead of judgment, conversation instead of clichés.
Now, when I speak about human connection, I hammer home the idea that there’s a deeper layer to this. Sure, you can master digital body language, perfect your in-person handshake, or polish your elevator pitch, but if you’re not investing in real relationships, you’re missing the core of what human connection can offer. The sense of belonging we yearn for doesn’t magically appear from exchanging business cards. It appears when you consistently show up for each other, ask the tough questions, and genuinely care about more than just a job title or a cool new idea. It’s about building bridges across different generations, cultures, and experiences so that we feel less alone, even as the world keeps throwing new challenges at us.
We have a responsibility to create inclusive environments in our cities, our companies, and our communities. We can’t stop at believing that “everyone is welcome” if our actions don’t prove it. Inclusion means inviting people into conversations and circles who historically haven’t been asked to join. It means rethinking how we design events — moving away from talking heads on a stage to facilitated discussions where people genuinely connect as humans. It means encouraging people to break out of their bubbles and strike up a chat with someone who doesn’t look, sound, or think like them. The ultimate ROI isn’t measured just in money but in the richness of ideas, empathy, and engagement that a truly inclusive community fosters.
For too long, people have viewed networking as something extrinsic — a tool to be used when it benefits us. But when we shift the lens to see community building as an ongoing, mutual act of support, everything changes. In the workplace, it’s the difference between siloed teams and dynamic cross-department collaborations. In our cities, it’s the difference between lonely neighbors and thriving neighborhoods. And in our personal lives, it’s the difference between feeling adrift or feeling anchored.
The next time you’re planning a networking mixer, a company retreat, or an industry conference, consider how you can create an environment that sparks deeper connection. Set up small-group discussions on topics that matter — not just professional growth, but also the human experiences we share. Offer spaces where people can share their stories and find allies who will champion them through tough times.
I’ll never forget those phone calls from friends who refused to let me fade into my own private darkness. That practice of making space in your daily life for someone who’s struggling felt revolutionary in a world that’s always shouting “Busy, busy, busy!” It’s a reminder that we all have the power to enact small but transformative acts of kindness. We don’t need to be mental health experts to show up for each other. We just need to be consistent, compassionate, and a bit proactive in our communities. Even a text message or a quick voicemail can make a lonely day bearable.
If we truly believe that “all opportunities come from people,” then we must also recognize that the lifelines come from people, too. A vibrant network isn’t just a list of LinkedIn connections; it’s a group of individuals who stand by you when the chips are down. That’s a powerful proposition — one that calls us to reimagine the events we host, the conversations we spark, and the ways we support each other.
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Thom Singer, CSP, is a professional keynote speaker and the CEO at the Austin Technology Council.
