Are you depressed or just accidentally lonely?

I hadn’t meant to get lonely. It just sort of just happened. It was a bit like looking round one day and realising all your house plants had died, or that you’d been living in the same gym leggings for three days. It was the summer of 2017 and I’d recently moved to the buzzy city of Bristol. On paper, my life looked great. I had lots of friends, a family I was close to and a busy working life as a freelance writer. I lived in a city centre apartment a stone’s throw from bustling clubs, restaurants and yoga studios. What wasn’t to love?

Yet something was wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was like a yearning for something. Maybe you’ve felt it too — a low-level “offness” that you can’t quite name. You might put it down to stress, tiredness or a seasonal bug. Depression, or anxiety even. I went through all of these. But after a while, I realised it was none of these things. I had accidentally become very lonely.

My wake-up call came when I went into my coffee shop and realised that the barista was the first person I’d spoken to in three days. By that, I mean talking out loud (this was a time before voice notes). I went and sat down with a growing feeling of dismay. Bloody hell, I thought, I’m really lonely. Loneliness was something that happened to other people, the stereotype of an elderly person pushing a tartan shopping trolley down the street. It didn’t happen to a socially confident, mid-forties woman with everything going for her. How had I become so, well, alone? It turns out that this feeling is more common than any of us might like to think. In 2022, 50 per cent of UK adults reported feelings of loneliness. Young people aged from 16-24 are the loneliest demographic. Loneliness levels rose six per cent during the pandemic and have not dropped since. The 18-34-year-old age group are twice as likely to say they feel lonelier since then, compared to the over-55s.

My coffee shop moment made me realise there was a deeper problem with how I was leading my life. No matter how busy or connected I had convinced myself I was, the reality was that as a single, self-employed freelancer, I was spending 90 per cent of my week alone. I worked from home, shopped from home, worked out from home, watched movies from home, socialised online from home. The thing about loneliness is that it can stack up quietly on the sidelines and become a trap. The less you see people, the less you feel like seeing people. When the phone did ring and the invites came in, I started to avoid them. I felt overwhelmed and anxious and started to push away the one thing that would have helped. I ended up telling a close friend how I felt, which in turn helped me start talking more openly about it. It was then that I realised others felt the same way too. It made me feel better about myself, but also sad, about how modern life is set up against connection.

It’s easy to internalise loneliness and make it something “wrong” with us, but it’s actually a very normal and healthy reaction to living in slightly abnormal times. WhatsApp chats have replaced real-life ones. We work from home with the kettle and radio replacing chats, and in connection in the kitchen with colleagues. At home, we sit in separate rooms on our screens. Sometimes the same room but on different screens. We’re constantly distracted, never fully engaged. One of the saddest sights I have ever seen was a couple at a ridiculously in-demand restaurant more interested in their social media feeds than each other. Thinking about it, they might have only been there so they could put it on their social media feeds. Cut off from each other, we mindlessly scroll and fall into bigger pits of despair when we compare ourselves with those who did get a table at the swanky restaurant and the gulf widens. The pandemic has passed but many of us are still self-isolating without even knowing it.

But loneliness doesn’t just mean being cut off by tech, or being physically alone. We can feel accidentally lonely in relationships, family, friendships or at work, which in a way can feel even more taboo and confusing. “I went through a period where I was surrounded by lots of people but felt unseen by most and it was very lonely,” says life coach Emma Jeffreys. “It’s about the quality of connections and not the quantity.”

Suzy Reading is a chartered psychologist and author of several books on self-care. She says we can often feel lonely when we put others before ourselves, something that affects women in particular. “We can feel lonely when we lose ourselves in all the people pleasing, hyper-responsibility and hyper-independence,” she says. “We feel like we can’t rely on others, let them in or even accept kind offers of support.” What’s the remedy for those of us managing the midlife juggle? “We need to advocate for ourselves, so other people understand our feelings and needs,” Reading says. “Loneliness isn’t just disconnection from others. It’s estrangement from self.” Slowly, I started to emerge from my isolation bubble. I forced myself to turn up to things, and found myself having a good time and remembering what being in company felt like. And this is because socialising has a physiological effect, as well as a psychological one.

When humans connect, be it through eye contact, laughter, conversation, or shared emotion, multiple brain systems “light up” simultaneously, creating a chemical and neurological feedback loop that’s essential for wellbeing. Human connection triggers the release of oxytocin, especially during physical touch (like hugging) or emotional intimacy and this reduces stress hormones (like cortisol), lowers blood pressure, and increases feelings of trust and empathy. There is a natural ‘high’ to shared experiences too as group belonging feeds the reward system as the brain also releases dopamine too. By contrast chronic loneliness increases inflammatory responses and weakens immunity.

Regular social interaction has also been shown to sharpen memory and slow cognitive decline. People who maintain rich social networks tend to have stronger neural connectivity in regions linked to emotion regulation, decision-making, and empathy. So, getting out there isn’t just a nice to have — it can literally be life-enhancing and life-saving. My experiences led me to volunteering at UK loneliness charity Marmalade Trust, who completely normalised the experience of feeling lonely for me and removed the stigma. “Loneliness is nothing to be ashamed of,” says founder Amy Perrin. “It’s just a sign we’re not getting our social needs met.”

My lonely radar is quite good these days but it can still happen. I’d been spending quite a bit of time by myself recently and woke up one morning feeling a bit doom-and-gloom about everything. But this time, I recognised it for what it was — I was feeling a bit lonely. So instead of heaping shame and blame, I was intentional about doing something about it. A bit of fresh air and a quick coffee with a friend put me right again. If I’d sat on it and done nothing, it could have gone the other way and I would have started spiralling.

If you’re reading this and can relate, know that it’s perfectly normal. Sometimes the remedy is simpler than you think: a walk, a phone call, a cup of coffe with someone who gets it. Loneliness isn’t a life sentence, it’s just a reminder that we are physically and emotionally wired for meaningful human connection. The antidote might just be a friendly face and a flat white. Why not try it and see what happens?