Be the Nacho Nucleus

Create the Community You Crave

“Every pile of nachos has one main chip that holds the whole thing together.” - Kevin James in King of Queens

Photo by Louis Hansel on Unsplash

I’m the cheesiest chip on my plate of nachos. Cheese is what sticks all the chips together. Cheese is love. Creating the community I crave means I gotta be that chip in the middle with the most cheese that holds the whole mess together.

This does not mean I have to do all the work in relationships or be in charge of making things happen or planning every event and get-together. But it does mean that if I have a specific need for community and connection, I need to be the center of it that draws in the people I want to have in my pile of nachos. And, of course, I want to be connected with people who do the same, so that sometimes I can just be a chip on other people’s plates, letting them provide the main goo that makes the whole thing delicious.

What does that look like? Creating stuff I love and want in my life and inviting people to be a part of it.

• Starting several co-writing groups, because “friends don’t let friends write alone” but mostly because I want the accountability and connection and community.

• Having a painting party at my house with friends after we all fell in love with a painting we couldn’t afford (titled Disco Ball Moon) at a local non-profit art auction. Our paintings looked nothing like the original, but were original in their own right. Also, we ate sushi and cried and laughed our asses off.

• Hosting a monthly writing lab to read our work out loud and share feedback, because it’s magical and I want more magic in my life. If you want to experience actual fucking crying glittery magic, join us :)

  

• Hosting a casual pie fest when I didn’t feel like a traditional Thanksgiving get-together

  

• Creating a class to share what I’ve learned about writing and pitching personal essays, because I want to tell people it’s not as scary as it seems and because I want to give back to the writing community, but specifically the women in my life who have trusted me with their writing. Their raw talent blows my mind and I want to help them get their words out into the world. If you want to come and can’t afford it, email me at juliane@bergmannconsulting.com

  

• Having a birthday party with a bouncy house last year.

  

• This year was totally different. For my birthday in June, I invited 10 girlfriends after work on a Wednesday to do nothing.

Last year, I had actual plans. And a fucking bouncy house. How could I possibly top that? This year, I sent a text saying I don’t know what to do but I’d love it if you come be with me.

I had one small thought that maybe that wouldn’t be fun enough for people to show up for. That I had to be entertaining even though I wasn’t sure if I would even make it through the day without crying. (I didn’t.) That I had to come up with something to entice people to want to spend time with me. That my house wouldn’t be clean enough.

But the women I’d invited were all people who I’d been close to over the last year or were newer connections I felt very strongly about. I’d come to a “no plans, not sure if I’ll cry, but there will probably be cake” kind of birthday for every one of them, not caring at all what would happen, but being honored that I was invited. So, I just trusted it would be the same the other way around. That it was about community for them, just like it was about community for me.

So I just went with it. Two of my daughters picked up my favorite pizza for dinner, and Rob baked me a delicious cake.

On my birthday, one by one, every woman showed up. Gave me their time. Required no plan, program, or entertainment.

They did a lot to make sure they could be at my house doing absolutely nothing:

• One friend got on a plane with a cardboard box, in it a seedling of her favorite plant that she’d been growing for me.

• Two friends paid for childcare for their kids so they could come on a weeknight.

• One friend switched on-call work shifts so she could be there and not be glued to her phone all evening.

• One friend who lives out of town, drove in just to see me.

They brought me my favorite brownies from the store we both love to go to when we’re sad and need to eat our feelings. They walked through the flowering abundance of their garden, picking peonies and poppies and arranging them just so in a jar. They secretly asked all the other people invited to suggest a song for a birthday playlist and made a DIY mixtape to go along with it. They picked out cards they knew would make me laugh. They know me well enough to mail me a giant package of their favorite snacks along with a beautiful watercolor. They understand my love for words and shared a beautiful quote about friendship from David Whyte, which immediately made me cry.

This quote encompasses how I feel about my friends, and about the beautiful, creative, kind, funny, smart community of women I have gathered around me. I decided to read it to everyone at my party that wasn’t a party. I got embarrassed when everyone looked at me expectantly, which made me sweat, which made me even more embarrassed. I felt ridiculous and corny, but I couldn’t play it cool when I was so overwhelmed by gooey, cheesy love. I told everyone I’d probably cry. They all smiled and nodded, because, duh. They know me. Of course, I’ll cry.

“The ultimate touchstone of friendship is not improvement, neither of the other nor of the self: the ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone.” - Consolations by David Whyte

As I was reading the quote out loud, I was overwhelmed with gratitude that everyone who was there wanted to be there, because they loved me and everyone I invited was there because I loved them.

It’s taken me years to create the community I crave and it will take continued effort. The next thing I want to do? Starting a book club this fall, where we just get together at my house, eat snacks and drink hot things out of giant mugs and sit in front of the fireplace with our blankets and fuzzy socks and books and actually read. No talking about reading, just actual reading together.

I wasn’t popular in high school and never one of the cool kids. I was frequently ashamed of my family and my home. I isolated instead of reaching out. I became everyone’s unpaid therapist, never divulging anything meaningful about myself because I was scared of being seen.

My dad wasn't at my first birthday party, because he was in jail for a drug offense. The addictions, mental illnesses, poverty, and chaos in my childhood made me ashamed and prone to isolate emotionally. Forty-two years later, I still want the same cake and have created the community I crave.

I’m still scared. But it’s so worth it.

Be the nacho nucleus. Do it while being terrified of being seen and watch the love pour in and out of you.