You have decided that the missing piece is community, and so you have started, tentatively, to look for one. That instinct is good. But let me slow you down at the threshold, because there is a step you are about to skip.
A community is not a structure. It is people — warm, contradictory, busy, sometimes overwhelming. If you arrive without any order of your own, you will not find structure there. You will find a crowd, and a crowd can drown a person who has not yet learned to stand in the water.
A crowd will not give you structure. Structure is what lets you survive a crowd.
What structure means
By structure I mean something small and unglamorous. A fixed time you learn each day, however brief. A known order in which things are studied. A sense of where you are and what comes next. The tradition prizes this — fixed times for learning, a settled practice, a rhythm that holds whether or not you feel inspired.
The Rambam built whole works around order precisely because a person needs a frame before they need a feeling. Structure is what makes you legible to yourself. And only a person who is legible to themselves can walk into a room of others without dissolving.
A crowd will not give you structure. Structure is what lets you survive a crowd.
Build the frame first
So before you go looking for belonging, build a small frame you can stand inside. A daily time. A modest order. A question you are working through, in sequence, so that you arrive somewhere rather than wandering.
Then, when you do step into a community — and you should — you will not be asking it to organize you. You will be bringing an ordered self to it, ready to receive what only people can give: correction, friendship, a teacher's eye.
The frame we can help you sketch here. But the frame is scaffolding. The building is made of people, and you raise it among them, with a living teacher to guide the work.