There’s a major paradox within my life. I often don’t know what to do about it, but it’s been going on for as long as I can remember.
Sometimes I am perfectly content to let things be, but other times I long for things to be very different in my life. I long connection.
What gives?
Basically, a deep need for solitude, combined with past relational hurt has created a push-and-pull dynamic in my connections with others. I love being alone, but when loneliness hits, the desire to connect can feel overwhelming—leading to moments of oversharing with select others that might not be reciprocated, which then reinforces my tendency to withdraw. That cycle is often very painful.
In reality, some people prefer solitude more than others (and that’s perfectly okay), but loneliness is often a sign of an unmet need for meaningful connection rather than just surface-level interactions. It’s not about being surrounded by people—it’s about feeling truly seen and understood. For me, that’s been quite rare. When I encounter it, I want to hang onto it.
Despite the enormous amounts of time that I need for alone time, I’ve definitely built walls to protect myself from hurt, but I know those same walls might also be keeping the right kind of connections out. I often find myself looking for spaces where depth is welcomed, but that often feels few and far between.
The Paradox
The reality is, I’m a homebody, and I don’t venture out that much. When I do venture out, I’m always alone. Although I do have two very good friends, I don’t see them often. Both live quite a distance away from me, and oddly, it never occurs to me to get out and visit them because I’m so accustomed to my routine of finding alone time – a much needed space after a long, hard day of work.
Yet, I still don’t want to be in social settings where I feel like I’m too much for sharing my thoughts and emotions. So I have a tendency to often mask myself as a person. I often stop myself when I sense my obvious quirks wanting to shine through, especially when I’ve already discerned that those quirks or differences tend to rub some people the wrong way.
I often wish I could find spaces with other deep feelers, introverts, or neurodivergent individuals who understand the ebb and flow of needing both connection and solitude, but then I know that I would just immediately become fatigued by just the thought of actually being around people. In fact, I can see a sea of people, particularly at work, and I find myself fighting to contain my energy.
Being around people literally drains me. Although it sounds crazy, I can sometimes see actual wavelengths within the atmosphere that seem to transmit from people. When I see those waves, I literally feel sea sick. It’s then that I know I need to guard my energy and refrain from heavy interaction. The higher the wavelengths that I see or feel, the more I’ll need to retreat to a place of solitude later.
In particular, I find that I actually need to take naps just to recuperate before I can actually go to bed for sleep later on. In fact, when I exited my previous job, I felt like I slept on and off everyday for nearly four years because I was so drained by all the years I endured of social interaction. How I managed as an educator was quite an enormous feat considering my issues with social anxiety, selective mutism and neurodivergence.
Narcissistic Abuse
For the most part, I believe my experiences with being used and manipulated by narcissistic people have made me wary of connection. I’ve been burned so much that I often second-guess people’s motives and feel like connections always come with an agenda rather than genuine interest in who I am as a person.
At the same time, the loneliness I feel isn’t just about wanting more connection—it’s about longing for the right kind of connection: authentic, mutual, and safe … the kind where I don’t have to guard myself constantly or wonder if someone is just there to take advantage of me. Part of the struggle with this is that I’m deeply aware of energy and motives, which makes it harder to find people who are truly safe.
The challenge is finding relationships where I don’t have to be hyper-vigilant—where I don’t have to question if someone is using me, but instead, I feel at peace just being myself. I know those connections exist because I do have two very good friends who are safe. I just don’t get to engage with them as much because our lives are in different stages – not to mention we are in different states.
Mirror Images
In addition, I often feel like I’m actually drawn to people who are just as guarded and selective with their connections, which makes sense—because I recognize myself in them. I’d say I feel safer around people who aren’t overly pushy or intrusive, but at the same time, I know this creates a dynamic where we are keeping distance, making it difficult for a deeper connection to form.
It’s like two people standing at opposite ends of a bridge, both hesitant to walk across because neither wants to risk vulnerability first. Maybe they’ve been hurt too, or maybe their priorities in life don’t leave much space for deeper relationships. Either way, I’m left feeling like even the “safe” people aren’t fully available. That can feel really lonely, especially when I’m actually open to connection but also protective of my energy.
It’s all an interesting paradox. How do I sometimes find that I enjoy being alone and lonely at the same time but also desire to feel connected to others?
My Voice Unchained 