No One Talks About the Lonely Part of Healing

Why choosing peace can feel isolating and why that loneliness might mean you’re growing.

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In the beginning of my healing journey, every blog post I read, podcast episode I listened to about healing, focused on how empowering and freeing healing is.

While that’s true, I experienced moments of loneliness, grief and disconnect too.

When I made a conscious decision to start doing better for myself — mentally, emotionally and spiritually — I started setting boundaries, going against my people pleasing tendencies and saying no when I didn’t have the capacity, choosing rest over burning myself out, and walking away from people and situations that drained me.

Photo credits: Meg Aghamyan. From Unsplash.com.

 Everything shifted afterwards.

People I thought were lifelong friends became distant. One no, and suddenly, I didn’t get invites to events. Setting boundaries resulted in them trying to guilt-trip me into feeling bad about myself. It got to a point where I felt a deep ache when I finally chose myself… and realized that not everyone is supportive of me and my decision to heal.

There were friends I laughed with every day, stayed up late voice-noting, made core memories with… and suddenly, there were no texts pinging my phone and no replies to my check-ins.

Now, don’t get me wrong — it’s not their fault. It’s not mine either. We just started prioritizing different things. The old me wanted to stay up late to party with my friends, the new me just wanted to cuddle up in bed with a hot chocolate and a good book. My friends wanted to sip cocktails every time we hung out, but I was trying to prioritize my health by cutting down on alcohol. Some of them craved drama, but I just wanted peace.

The more I healed, the more I felt alone. It’s a weird type of sadness — realizing that becoming someone new sometimes requires letting go of people who knew and liked the old you best.

I missed the people I had to let go of. And I hated that.

How do you explain missing someone who was bad for your mental health? Or missing people who made you feel small and people who just didn’t get you anymore?

I won’t lie — I cried. I questioned myself. In certain situations, I even thought about shrinking myself again just to be accepted by them.

I’ve since learned that it’s part of the process.

Healing doesn’t come with clarity right away. Sometimes, it comes with confusion, guilt and grief. Sometimes, it feels like you’re betraying others just by choosing yourself.

This is just one of the aspects of your healing journey that you’ve got to adapt to.

And now, looking back, I’m glad that this happened. It opened the door for me to discover many more things about myself, while also giving me the opportunity to figure out who in my life genuinely cares about me and supports me, through all the highs and lows.

I was able to surround myself with people who were committed to help me grow, learn and be better, people who cheered me on (and TRUST ME, Quality > Quantity every single time).

I also discovered new hobbies that brought me happiness. New routines that brought me peace. I filled that loneliness I felt by learning how to genuinely enjoy my company.

Healing is hard but staying stuck in a place where you’re downright unhappy and unfulfilled with yourself is harder.

If you’re in the messy middle of your healing journey missing people who are no longer adding any value to your life, wondering if you’re doing this whole “healing” thing right — let this be your reminder:

You’re doing just fine.

Losing people during this journey doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong, it just means you’re growing.

It means your energy and your priorities shifted.

And that’s okay.

You’re allowed to miss people and still move on.

You’re allowed to feel sad about what you left behind and still be proud of where you’re going.

You are one step closer to finding yourself and that is worth the struggle.

Have you felt this too? Let’s talk about it in the comments — or reach out to me if you’ve been in the thick of it. I’d love to hear your story.

Until next time,

Senuri