I’ve recently moved into an over-55s lifestyle village, carrying three suitcases, one divorce and a heady mix of hope and mild panic.
On paper, it sounded perfect. Community. Security. A fresh start. In reality, it feels a bit like starting high school again – only with better haircuts, more joint replacements and stronger opinions about the bin night roster.
A lifestyle village, I’ve learned quickly, is a microcosm of the rest of the world. There are people you’ll adore within minutes. People who make you cross the road (or at least the lawn) when you see them coming. And people who are perfectly pleasant but simply not your people. All of them live alarmingly close.
So how do you survive – and even thrive – as the new girl? Especially when you’re recently divorced, slightly anxious, and determined to start again without turning into either a recluse or the village gossip cautionary tale?
Here’s what I’m learning, sometimes the hard way.
You don’t have to become the social director, but you do have to show your face. Attend the morning tea. Go to the trivia night. Walk past the pool instead of driving around it. You can always leave early – the great, unspoken privilege of our age.
Say yes more than you say no in the beginning. Momentum matters. You’re not committing to lifelong friendships; you’re simply gathering information.
Big groups can feel intimidating, especially when everyone else seems to know each other’s medical history and grandkids’ names. One person at a time is easier.
Compliment a garden. Ask how long they’ve lived here. Comment on the weather (it’s legal and encouraged). These gentle openings often lead to coffee, which leads to connection – or at least friendly recognition when you pass each other on the footpath.
There will be stories. Many stories. Repeated stories. Listen kindly.
In those early weeks, you’re absorbing the village culture – who’s friendly, who’s feuding, who to avoid sitting next to at bingo. You don’t need to share your entire backstory straight away. Keep some of yourself private. Mystery is underrated.
Every village has one. Step carefully.
Gossip travels faster than a mobility scooter on a downhill slope, and once you’re caught in it, it’s hard to extract yourself gracefully. If someone starts bad-mouthing another resident, a neutral response works wonders: “Oh really? I haven’t got to know them yet.”
You’ll thank yourself later.
You are allowed boundaries. You don’t have to join every committee, host every visitor or solve every minor crisis just to be liked.
Being helpful is lovely. Becoming indispensable is exhausting.
Accept that not everyone will like you – and that’s okay
This one is big, especially if you’re starting over and craving belonging. Some people simply won’t warm to you. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re human.
You’re not here to audition for approval. You’re here to build a life that feels safe, connected and genuinely yours.
Friendships in lifestyle villages often grow slowly, like good perennials. Familiarity breeds comfort. Comfort breeds trust.
Six months from now, the same faces that feel intimidating today may feel reassuring. Or at least tolerable – which, frankly, is also a win.
Most importantly: be kind to yourself
Moving is stressful. Divorce is grieving. Starting again takes courage.
You’re allowed quiet days. You’re allowed tears behind closed doors. You’re allowed to retreat and regroup.
But you’re also allowed joy, laughter and reinvention.
You didn’t move here to disappear. You moved here to begin again – a little wiser, a little bruised, and still open to what might come next.
And if all else fails, remember this: in every lifestyle village, someone else is lying awake at night worrying they said the wrong thing at happy hour.
You are not alone – even when it feels that way.
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