Lonely Too: A Second Chance to Be Seen

In 2023, I wrote that loneliness was the new pandemic. Now, it’s no longer just a quiet crisis whispered about behind closed doors. The U.S. Surgeon General has declared loneliness a full-blown public health emergency, equating its impact to smoking 15 cigarettes a day.

Half of all American adults report feeling lonely regularly.

But here’s the thing no one wants to say out loud:
You can feel deeply connected online, surrounded by people at work or on social media, and still… feel utterly alone.
Ask me how I know.

This Is the Kind of Loneliness We Don’t Talk About

Let me be honest with you.

I’m almost 12 weeks into recovery from major spinal fusion surgery—L1 to sacrum. Ten days in the hospital. Months of healing still ahead. And here’s the moment that cracked me wide open:

Not one friend came to visit me in the hospital
Not one.

I was lying still, groggy from anesthesia and pain meds, when I turned to my husband and asked, “Really? Not one person came to the hospital?”

This is not meant to be a guilt trip or in any way dismissive of the many people who reached out to me (which I am not sure I remember) or to my husband to inquire about me. It is just my awareness that I’ve spent a lifetime being the one who shows up. I’ve dropped soup on doorsteps. I’ve sat vigil at hospital beds. I’ve helped others walk through death, divorce, and depression. I am a trained social worker and a people pleaser. I know how to show up without asking.

And yet, in one of my most vulnerable moments, I felt alone.

Since coming home, my husband has been my sole caretaker—bless him—but the long days stretch wide. I’m alone in a body that doesn’t move the way I want it to. I have no appetite, no energy to get up and feed myself, no real idea how to feel comfortable in this new skin—physically, mentally, emotionally.

And maybe the deepest ache of all?

Everyone I once called family is gone.
Mom. Dad. Brother. Grandparents.
Gone.

I grieve family.

I grieve my dog
I grieve the mirror of aging.
I grieve the independence I once had and the body I no longer recognize.

I grieve the version of me that could get out of bed without gritting her teeth.

And underneath all that, I grieve something even more tender:

I am lonely.

Not every minute. Not every hour. But in the quiet. In the ache. In the absence. I feel it. I am not immune. And I’m done pretending otherwise.

Loneliness Is Not a Weakness. It’s a Signal.

We’ve framed loneliness as a social problem to solve with meetups and brunch dates. But it goes deeper than that. For many of us, especially women, especially leaders, especially the ones who “hold it all together,” loneliness often shows up as:

Over-functioning
Being the strong one, always
Pretending we’re fine because vulnerability feels dangerous
Disappearing emotionally while keeping up appearances

The Surgeon General is finally catching up to what so many of us already knew in our bones:
Loneliness kills. Not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. Creatively.

And it doesn’t just stem from being without people.
It stems from being unseen.

I spent much of my life feeling invisible and unseen. I used my invisibility to seemingly keep myself safe from the chaos of my upbringing and what I deemed as unsafe people throughout my life.

The feeling of being invisible in psychology often stems from unmet core needs and early relational experiences. Here’s a breakdown of where it can come from:

Childhood Attachment and Development

Neglect or Emotional Unavailability: If a kid’s caregivers didn’t see, affirm, or reflect their inner world — even if basic needs were met — the child may internalize a belief like “I don’t matter” or “I’m not worth being seen.”
Overattunement to Others (Fawning): Some people learn early to make themselves small, agreeable, or invisible to avoid conflict or stay safe, especially in chaotic or high-demand households.

Core Beliefs and Internalized Messages

We form deep-seated beliefs, such as “I’m unimportant” or “My voice doesn’t matter,” that shape how we show up, or don’t, in relationships and the world.
These beliefs often operate under the radar until we hit a wall (burnout, loneliness, identity crisis, or health crisis).

Social and Cultural Conditioning

For women, BIPOC folks, neurodivergent people, and other marginalized identities, invisibility is often reinforced by society. Think about:
- Being overlooked in the workplace
- Being interrupted or spoken over
- Being valued for appearance or utility, not essence

Depression or Dissociation

Feeling invisible can also show up as a symptom of depression, trauma, or chronic stress, when someone feels disconnected from themselves and the world.

Existential Roots

Some folks experience invisibility on a soul level: “Does anyone really see the real me?” or “Am I just playing a role?”
This gets into identity, authenticity, and the longing for being rather than performing.

So what do we do with it?

Name it. Visibility starts with you seeing yourself. No one else can do that first.
Heal the origin. Often, that means inner child work, trauma healing, or reparenting.
Claim space. As scary as it is, visibility is a practice, not a one-time event.
Find real mirrors. Being witnessed in a safe community is medicine for invisibility.

Soul-Level Invisibility

At the soul level, invisibility is a form of exile.
It’s what happens when the essence of who we are — our gifts, voice, longings, weirdness, wildness — gets hidden, masked, or shut down.

This usually happens not because we’re broken, but because the world couldn’t hold us. Couldn’t handle our fullness. So we adapted, we shrank, we shape-shifted, we dimmed.

Soul invisibility sounds like:

“No one gets me.”
“If they saw the real me, they’d leave.”
“I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

And it’s fucking painful. Because deep down, the soul wants to be seen. To be witnessed in its full radiance — not for approval, but for connection. For being.

Final Thought

The pain of invisibility isn’t just that others didn’t see you — it’s that you started believing them.

So this work? It’s about returning. To yourself. To your body. To the truth that you were never meant to disappear — you were meant to fucking shine.

A Second Chance to Reconnect (with Yourself, Too)

This moment we’re living through?
It’s an invitation, a second chance.

Not just to reach out, but to go inward.

To stop waiting for someone to show up and start listening to the aching parts of ourselves we’ve ignored for far too long.

Reconnection isn’t just about having more people.
It’s about having more Truth.

So if you’re lonely, here’s your second chance:

To sit beside your pain and say: “I see you.”
To grieve what you’ve lost without rushing to fix it.
To ask for help, even if your voice shakes.
To whisper out loud: “I’m lonely too.”

You’re Not Alone in Your Aloneness

So I’ll say it first:

I’m lonely too.

And not because I’m unloved. Or forgotten. Or not enough.
But because I’m human. And healing. And holding a whole lot.

If you’re reading this and feeling the same, know this:

There is nothing wrong with you.

Loneliness is not your failure.
It’s your body and soul calling you back to connection with others, but maybe more importantly, with yourself.

Let’s stop pretending we’ve got it all figured out.
Let’s stop masking.
Let’s speak the truth.

Because the truth is what sets us free.
The truth is what makes room for healing.
The truth is where connection begins.

And that, my friend, is the second chance we all deserve.

Reflection Prompt for You

Take one quiet minute.
Ask yourself this:

Where am I pretending I’m not lonely?
What am I longing for that I haven’t named out loud?
What would it look like to let myself be seen—just as I am, right now?

You’re not alone. I see you. I’m with you.
Lonely and still choosing to show up.

Want more?
• Sign up for the next UPROOT cohort (Sept. 3 – Oct. 23). If you’re ready to go deeper in connection with yourself and others, my UPROOT Course will walk you through the process of untangling from what no longer serves you, and you’ll have support, a community, and tools that work.