Part 4: Loneliness, Even in a Full House

Loneliness doesn’t always look like being alone. Sometimes, it looks like cooking dinner for people who don’t ask how your day was. Or sitting in a house that’s full of arguing and complaints but void of connection and appreciation. It looks like being the one everyone comes to but no one checks on.

That kind of loneliness is harder to name. And even harder to admit.

You can be surrounded by family—spouse, children, grandchildren—and still feel invisible. You smile, cook, clean, help with homework, say yes when you want to say no, and carry on like everything’s fine. But deep down, you’re craving something real. A space where you don’t have to explain yourself. A conversation where someone sees you and not just what you can do for them.

It’s the silence between the conversations. The sense that no one notices your pain. That your thoughts don’t matter. That your stories are too old, your worries too heavy, or your needs too inconvenient.

And even though part of you wants to shout, “What about me?” you stay quiet. Because you don’t want to rock the boat. Or because you tried once before and it didn’t go well. Or because you were raised not to make things about you. Or the biggest one, you’re strong enough to handle it all.

So you retreat, and not the relaxing by the pool or doing yoga kind of retreat. Smile through the ache. Numb it with TV, food, scrolling, shopping, or busyness. But the ache doesn’t go away. It just waits.

We Stopped Talking, and We Forgot How to Start Again

Many of us were raised to keep our feelings to ourselves. To be strong. To be quiet. To put on a good face and get through it.

So we don’t tell our partner that we feel unseen. We don’t tell our kids that we miss talking to them like we used to. We don’t tell our friends that we need more than surface-level check-ins.

And over time, we get used to the silence. Used to doing everything alone. Used to pretending we’re fine.

But silence is heavy. It takes a toll on your spirit. On your health. On SLEEP.

If you’ve been lying awake at night, not just from worry but from the weight of feeling unknown, you’re not alone.

This Kind of Loneliness Doesn’t Just Hurt Your Heart—It Hurts Your Body

Loneliness activates your stress response. It raises cortisol levels. It disrupts your sleep. It increases inflammation. It makes everything feel harder, especially healing. That fatigue you feel might not just be physical. It might be emotional exhaustion from not being truly connected.

You might be the one everyone else counts on. But who do you go to?

If the answer is “no one,” that’s a red flag.

And I don’t say that to scare you, I say it because I care. We need each other. But we also need honest relationships. Ones where you don’t feel like you have to perform, fix, or carry the emotional load for everyone else.

You Deserve to Be Heard—Without Fixing Yourself First

You don’t need to be more patient, or more helpful, or more healed to deserve love and connection. You don’t have to prove your worth. You already are worthy.

And you don’t have to wait for your family to change before you start building better relationships. You can start with yourself.

Ask yourself:

• Have I been holding things in just to keep the peace?
  
  
• When was the last time I wanted to say no, but I said yes instead?
  
  
• Do I allow people to support me, or do I keep pretending I’m fine, saying, “I got it?”
  
  

You might not have the answers right away. But asking the questions is a form of connection, to yourself, to your healing, and eventually to others.

It’s Okay to Want More

If this season of life feels lonely, even though you’re surrounded by people, I want you to know you’re not weak. You’re just aware. And that awareness is a gift. It means your spirit hasn’t given up.

You still want joy. You still want laughter that makes you lose your breath. Conversations that nourish you. Hugs that don’t feel like an afterthought. Eye contact. Trust. Love. Appreciation.

You’re not too old to want those things. You’re not too far gone. You’re not asking for too much.

You need more connection. And that’s okay.

Let Connection Begin with You

One of the things I teach in the Control the Controllable meditation series is how to make peace with what you can’t change—and still show up with hope for what’s possible. It’s not about forcing anyone else to meet your emotional needs. It’s about learning to acknowledge your needs with honesty and without shame.

If that resonates with you, I encourage you to revisit the series or start it now. It’s a 10-day guide that helps you let go of the weight you were never meant to carry. You don’t need to figure this out alone. The series will walk you through it from the comfort of your home. 

You just need to stop pretending you’re not feeling it.

Start Small, But Start

If you’ve been feeling disconnected, take a step. Call someone who sees you. Take some time to find a new group of people who are going through the same things you are. I know it seems crazy to start something new at your age, but it’s not. It can be refreshing. 

Let yourself be witnessed by people who understand and can support you. 

Because one thing we didn’t talk about yet is the loneliness that comes from grief. Many of your friends and loved ones have passed on and have left you behind. You miss them, you mourn them and you can’t replace them. Even though you can’t replace them it’s is still nice to know you can share their memory with someone new to keep them in your heart. 

You deserve more than just being useful. You deserve to be known. So consider the steps we map out in the Control the Controllable series and go get yourself in a new tribe. Be seen, heard, and appreciated. 

If you’ve been feeling disconnected, take a step. Call someone who sees you. Take some time to find a new group of people who are going through the same things you are. I know it might seem crazy to start something new at your age, but it’s not. In fact, it can be refreshing.

Let yourself be witnessed by people who understand and can support you.

Because one thing we haven’t talked about yet is the loneliness that comes from grief. Many of your friends and loved ones have passed on and left you behind. You miss them. You mourn them. And you can’t replace them. But even though they can’t be replaced, it’s still comforting to share their memory with someone new—to keep them alive in your heart.

And if grief is the ache beneath your loneliness, you are not alone in that either.

Next week, we’ll close out this series with a bonus article about navigating grief. Because healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means honoring who and what you’ve lost—without losing yourself in the process.

You’re still here. And you’re still worthy of connection, joy, and peace.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3