I’m sitting here at like 1:38 a.m. in this apartment that always smells faintly like burnt popcorn because the vent fan is broken, my partner is passed out with his arm thrown over his face like he’s blocking out the world (or maybe just my snoring), and I’m feeling lonely so hard it physically hurts my sternum. Like actual ache. We literally fell asleep holding hands two hours ago and now I’m wide awake wondering why I still feel like I’m on a different planet. If that sentence makes sense to you then yeah… welcome.
I’ve collected these seven things over the last year or so that sometimes—sometimes—make the lonely feeling turn down from scream to background hum. They’re not cute Pinterest quotes. They’re the shit I actually do when I’m trying not to hate everything.
1. Say It Out Loud Like I’m Talking to a Dog
Sounds insane. Works better than it should. There’s science about this naming-your-feelings thing reducing amygdala activity or whatever—look up emotional labeling on the APA site if you care: https://www.apa.org/monitor/2011/12/emotions. For me it’s less science and more like finally admitting there’s a third person in the bed.
2. Stop Gaslighting Myself That It’s Always Their Fault
This one stings. I spent like eight months convinced that if he would just notice I’m quiet or put his fucking phone away for five minutes or remember I hate mushrooms then the loneliness would evaporate. Turns out a chunk of it was already here before him. I still get mad when he doesn’t read my mind, but realizing some of the lonely is mine to carry has been… freeing? Depressing? Both. Mostly both.
3. Text Someone Else Something Real (Even If It’s Cringe)
Not “haha wyd” bullshit. More like “hey I’m having a night where I feel invisible can we talk tomorrow for real?” My best friend lives three states away now but she’ll still send me a voice note at 3 a.m. her time that’s just her yawning and going “yeah babe that’s brutal, call me when you wake up.” That tiny tether keeps me from believing the lie that nobody sees me.
4. Do One Small “I Still Exist” Action
Tonight it was forcing myself to drink water instead of warm Diet Coke number four and actually brushing my hair instead of letting it matt into a nest. Pathetic? Yeah. But when I finished I had this second where I thought “at least I didn’t fully abandon ship tonight.” Tiny self-respect points add up when you’re otherwise circling the drain.
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5. Ask For the Exact Thing (and Survive the Cringe)
Two weeks ago I literally said “I need you to look me in the eyes and ask how I’m actually doing—not just ‘you good?’—and then wait for the answer.” He looked like I’d asked him to defuse a bomb. Froze for a solid eight seconds. But the next night he did it. Awkward as hell. Stuttered. Still counted. If you’re scared to ask for connection when you already feel disconnected… yeah same. It’s still the only thing that ever moves the needle. Brené Brown talks about this better than I ever could: https://brenebrown.com/the-research/
6. Force 10 Minutes of Intentional Aloneness
I know, sounds backwards. When I feel lonely I usually glue myself closer to him hoping osmosis will fix the emptiness. Feeling Lonely Newsflash: doesn’t. So sometimes I grab headphones, go stand on the tiny balcony with the cigarette smell that never leaves, and just breathe for ten minutes. No scrolling. Just city noise and cold air. Weirdly makes the later cuddling feel less desperate.
7. Let the Night Be a Lonely Night and Not Turn It Into a Whole Identity
This is the part I resist hardest. I want a fix. A cure. Feeling Lonely A guarantee I’ll never feel this again. And that doesn’t mean I’m defective or we’re doomed or I’m destined to be alone forever. It just means tonight sucks and tomorrow is statistically likely to suck less.
