There are certain themes that tend to emerge, again and again, in the therapy room—universal, consistent topics that people share with me in the safe and sacred container that therapy provides. One of those themes, which I’ve noticed becoming increasingly more common, is loneliness.
Every day, I bear witness to the deep pain of feeling isolated in a highly connected world. This paradox—being surrounded by people and provided with endless opportunities to be constantly in touch, yet feeling profoundly alone—is something I encounter quite often. And, perhaps, that should come as no surprise. Loneliness, after all, is one of the quiet plagues of our culture. A riddle we must solve if we’re to progress, collectively, in a healthy and prosperous direction. But to begin solving it, we have to understand what’s at the heart of it.
Carl Jung once said that “loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.”These wise words get to the root of the issue: what we’re lacking isn’t connection—it’s honesty. It’s transparency. It’s an authentic way of relating to one another that helps us feel seen and understood. This isn’t a soft or sentimental matter; it’s a profound human need that we must learn to tend to.
Over the years, I’ve worked with countless individuals who are surrounded by people yet feel painfully isolated. Social media influencers with hundreds of thousands of followers who can’t name a single trusted friend. Social butterflies who can always be spotted surrounded by people, but who don’t feel truly seen or understood by any of them. Individuals with big families who can’t remember the last time they had a meaningful conversation. Their quiet confessions of feeling cut off from connection reveal the truth in Jung’s words. Their testimonies underscore that the cure for loneliness isn’t connecting with more people; it’s connecting more honestly and meaningfully with the right people (i.e., people who are willing to show up honestly and intentionally, too).
Perhaps my favorite part of being a therapist is getting to keep authentic company with other human beings—to engage in the kind of real, honest connection that heals. Therapy isn’t a substitute for other relationships; it’s its own sacred relationship. A place to practice this kind of honest relating that, when carried out into the world, has transformative potential.
It isn’t easy to be ourselves in a world that’s constantly telling us who we’re supposed to be. It’s incredibly vulnerable—and, therefore, incredibly brave—to walk through the world authentically and make earnest attempts at connection. But if nearly 20 years of doing therapy have taught me anything, it’s that bringing ourselves to take these kinds of relational risks pays off tremendously. It’s a balm for loneliness, a salve for the sad and scary feeling of being unseen.
Because ultimately, we’re all just trying to be known.
To be met where we truly are, not where we pretend to be. When we dare to show ourselves honestly—to speak what matters, to listen deeply, and to stay present with one another in truth—we dissolve the illusion of separateness. We remember that we belong.
