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The Loneliness I Didn't Expect

My children both left home at 16.


At first, I thought I had navigated the empty nest stage reasonably well. But then the pandemic struck, and our son was home far more than anyone expected. Looking back, I don't think I felt the full extent of ‘empty nesting’ until a few years later, when both of my children were away at university.


By then, life had changed in other ways too.


Even now, after slowly rebuilding my life, it sometimes still hits me.


It's that feeling when I come home to a house that’s incredibly quiet. The hustle and bustle of family life has disappeared. No one is calling out from another room. No one is rushing to tell me about their day. No one is asking for a ride somewhere at the last minute.


Just silence. And me.


Most of the time, I enjoy being on my own. I've built a life that includes hobbies I love, new challenges like tap dancing and work that gives me purpose.


But loneliness has a way of appearing when I least expect it.

The Masks We Wear

I don't tend to talk about it much.


Instead, I put on a mask. A different one depending on who I'm talking to. One for my family. Another for my children. Another for friends.


The mask says I'm doing fine.


And mostly, I am.


But underneath it, there are moments when I feel very alone.

Why is Loneliness So Hard To Admit?

Perhaps that's why I wasn't surprised when I started hearing about loneliness cafés and the ‘empty chair’ idea that has been in the news here in the UK.

What surprised me most was my reaction.


I haven't gone to one.


Part of me wondered: what would that say about me?


Would it mean I was lonely?


Would people assume I couldn't cope on my own?


Why does admitting I’m lonely feel so uncomfortable?


The more I thought about it, the more I realised that loneliness carries a stigma that many other wellbeing challenges don't.


We now talk about stress, burnout and anxiety. Yet loneliness often remains hidden.


Perhaps because loneliness feels too personal. As though it's something we've somehow failed to solve.

Learning To Live With Loneliness

But loneliness for me isn't just about being alone.


It's sometimes about missing a chapter of my life that has ended.


Sometimes it's about adjusting to a life that is very different from the one I once imagined.


Sometimes it's simply about being human.


What I've learned is that loneliness doesn't disappear overnight. It comes and goes. The answer, at least for me, isn't pretending it doesn't exist.


It's acknowledging it when it shows up.


It's reaching out to a friend.


It's saying yes to an invitation.


It's continuing to build a life that feels meaningful, even when it looks very different from the one I had before.


Because loneliness isn't something to be ashamed of.


Perhaps it's a reminder that we've loved deeply, that life has changed, and we've still finding our way through a new chapter.

What I Have Been Reading and Listening To

Katherine May, Wintering

Exploring the ongoing conversations about loneliness cafes and other initiatives like Empty Chairs

 
 
 

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