see also:

• psychiatry and mental health
• antidepressants
• suicide
• Geriatric depression scale
• stress
• happiness
• sadness
• depression

• a study published Mar 2025 of 57,000 middle aged Australian women showed that those who reported persistently feeling lonely had a 3x rate of death over the 15 year study period compared to those without persistent loneliness¹⁾

• In our darkest moments, we don’t need solutions or advice. What we yearn for is simply human connection—a quiet presence, a gentle touch. These small gestures are the anchors that hold us steady when life feels like too much.
• Please don’t try to fix me. Don’t take on my pain or push away my shadows. Just sit beside me as I work through my own inner storms. Be the steady hand I can reach for as I find my way.
• My pain is mine to carry, my battles mine to face. But your presence reminds me I’m not alone in this vast, sometimes frightening world. It’s a quiet reminder that I am worthy of love, even when I feel broken.
• So, in those dark hours when I lose my way, will you just be here? Not as a rescuer, but as a companion. Hold my hand until the dawn arrives, helping me remember my strength.
• Your silent support is the most precious gift you can give. It’s a love that helps me remember who I am, even when I forget.

George Orwell said: The most terrible loneliness is not the kind that comes from being alone, but the kind that comes from being misunderstood; the loneliness of standing in a crowded room, surrounded by people who do not see you, who do not hear you, who do not know the true essence of who you are. And in that loneliness, you feel as though you are fading, disappearing into the background, until you are nothing more than a ghost, a shadow of your former self.

It’s that soul-deep ache of being surrounded by people—friends, family, colleagues—yet feeling completely invisible. You may smile, nod, and go through the motions, but inside, you feel a sense of isolation that words can’t fully capture. You feel as though no one truly gets you, as if the truest parts of you are hidden, left unrecognized, while the world only acknowledges the version of you that fits in.

This kind of loneliness hits hard because it isn’t about the absence of people; it’s about the absence of connection. You crave to be seen for who you really are, to have someone understand your soul’s language, your quirks, your dreams, and the complexities of your heart. But when you’re misunderstood, it feels as if there’s an unbridgeable gap between your inner world and the outside one. It’s like standing behind a glass wall, desperately hoping someone will look through and truly *see* you, only to realize they’re gazing right past you. In that space of feeling unknown, you start to question yourself. You wonder if you should change, if you should become what the world expects or desires, just to feel a hint of acceptance. But even then, the loneliness doesn’t vanish; it only grows. Because the deeper tragedy is the slow fading of your own essence, the parts of you that you start to hide or let go of, simply to belong. You become a shadow, a ghost of the vibrant self you once were, drifting silently, holding onto the hope that one day, someone might understand. What makes this kind of loneliness so painful is that it’s not just the longing to be loved—it’s the longing to be known, and loved *for* being known. For someone to look at the parts of you that are messy, complicated, and even broken, and to say, “I see you. I understand. And I’m here.” It’s the yearning for someone to hear your heart’s quietest whispers and to feel the depths of your soul without judgment or expectation.

Yet, even in that terrible loneliness, there’s a quiet strength. There’s a resilience in holding onto your essence, even when it feels invisible. There’s courage in keeping your light alive, in refusing to let the world’s misunderstanding extinguish the fire within you. You may feel unseen, but the truth is, your uniqueness, your complexity, is what makes you extraordinary. Somewhere, someone will value that. And until then, you can value that.

Sometimes, the journey through being misunderstood leads to a deeper understanding of yourself. It teaches you to embrace who you are, even if the world isn’t ready to. It invites you to find peace in your own company, to nurture the parts of yourself that feel lonely and unacknowledged. And, in time, you may discover that the right connections—the ones that see you, hear you, and know you—come when you least expect them.

So, hold on. Keep your essence alive. Refuse to become a shadow, even if that means standing alone for a while. Your true self deserves to be celebrated, and though the wait may feel long, the beauty of being fully known is worth every moment. Your people—the ones who truly understand your soul—are out there, and when they find you, the terrible loneliness will start to fade. You’ll realize that your essence was never meant to be hidden. It was always meant to shine.

• Both Thoreau and Aristotle offer valuable insights into the nature of personal growth and fulfillment. While Thoreau highlights the benefits of solitude for self-discovery and inner peace, Aristotle underscores the importance of community and relationships in achieving a well-rounded and meaningful existence given we are essentially very social beings.
• The key might lie in finding a balance between these two aspects. Solitude can provide the space for personal reflection and growth, while community offers the support, interaction, and shared experiences that enrich our lives and contribute to our overall well-being.

The exodus into solitude is not an abrupt rupture but a slow erosion, a glacial drift toward an internal wilderness where silence speaks with more fidelity than voices ever did. It begins in the fissures of faith—in the quiet betrayals, the subtle erosions of trust that accumulate like silt in the riverbed of the soul. The first fractures are dismissed as anomalies, aberrations in an otherwise stable structure of human connection. But disillusionment, like entropy, is relentless. It does not shatter; it dissolves.

Every dashed expectation is a whisper of the dissonance of belonging, every broken promise a discordant note that renders harmony untenable. It is not the grand betrayals that drive one inward, but the steady hum of disappointments that calcify into certainty: the certainty that intimacy is a gamble, and the house always wins.

And so, the individual, weary of forfeiting pieces of themselves to the unguarded hands of others, retreats into the citadel of solitude. They become both the architect and the prisoner of a fortress built not of stone but of experience—an edifice not erected in defiance of humanity but in quiet reverence to the unyielding laws of self-preservation. They do not sever ties; they allow them to atrophy. They do not forsake connection; they cease pursuing one that corrodes more than it completes.

What emerges is not misanthropy but an evolved discernment—a meticulous curation of presence, where silence is not emptiness but equilibrium, where solitude is not isolation but sovereignty. They become connoisseurs of their own company, preferring the sanctuary of introspection to the volatility of uncertain alliances.

Trust, once squandered like a naive investor gambling on illusory fortunes, is now a rare currency, issued only in increments justified by proof. And even then, the vault remains guarded, for solitude has never once betrayed them or demanded more than it gave.

To invite another into this realm is not merely an act of trust; it is an act of relinquishment, a willingness to wager peace against the precarious hope that perhaps, this time, presence will not be synonymous with loss. But until that wager seems worth the risk, they remain—a lone sovereign in a kingdom of quiet, where walls do not imprison but protect, where solitude is not loneliness but liberation.

• Siblings are hardwired to engage in rivalry because they compete with one another for one of life’s most critical resources — parental care
• When parental favoritism is obvious or is interpreted as such, siblings are more likely to become estranged
• The ability to fight with your sibling and resolve those conflicts can be an important developmental achievement
• Siblings who never learn to manage these conflicts are most at risk for adult family estrangement
• There are two personality types who appear prone to being estranged by siblings: those who are extremely hostile and those who are grievance collectors - constantly bringing up past grievances from bygone years
• sibling rivalry may result in resentment of every positive event in the sibling's life
• Completely cutting off a sibling, regardless of how much it may be deserved, has serious ramifications - those who initiate family estrangement often feel deep regret later - no one else has the same shared set of experiences and that shared understanding is very powerful