If you’ve never felt lonely, you can skip this one.
But if you’ve gone weeks (or months) without really talking to anyone about anything that mattered, and you’ve convinced yourself you prefer it that way, settle in. This might sting a little.
I don’t think you would even call it loneliness anymore at this point. Maybe you’ve even started to believe your own stories.
“I’m not a social person.”
“I’m more of a thinker.”
“I like being alone“
“Small talk is annoying.”
“I’m an introvert.”
Undoubtedly, all of these are true. But they’re not the real reason you’ve made avoiding people your default.
The stories make it easy to avoid the thing underneath. That thing that you don’t want to feel: you want to feel close to people, but don’t know how.
Before I knew
I used to say all the same things.
“I’m not a people person. Never will be.”
I’d dread any invitation, especially if it involved a group. Meeting one person I could handle. Three? Maybe. But a wedding? An entire day of pretending to enjoy small talk? “Hell no,” I’d think.
But I still felt I should go. Sometimes out of obligation, sometimes to be supportive, and sometimes because I honestly thought I might actually connect with someone. Until I got there.
The familiar anxiety would kick in. I’d freeze up, go quiet, and spend the rest of the time hoping no one noticed me.
So I ended up either avoiding social settings entirely or, when I forced myself to go, floating around the edge of the room, trying not to make eye contact, and definitely leaving early.
On the way home, I’d feel that uncomfortable sense of self-disappointment come up, like I hadn’t made the most of the situation. But luckily, I always had a solid strategy up my sleeve to counteract it. I told myself I didn’t need these people and that I was better off being by myself again anyway.
Because caring meant wanting something I didn’t know how to get.
And that was too painful to admit back then.
Not what I planned
So why do I keep talking in the past tense? What changed?
It’s not that I suddenly woke up loving parties, had some big breakthrough, or my excuse-stories magically disappeared.
I accidentally became a people person. By stumbling into the coaching profession.
I was drawn to coaching because I liked the idea of being the expert in the room. I thought it was just a more elegant way of giving advice.
What it actually was caught me completely off guard.
Coaching, I quickly learned, wasn’t about talking or expertise. It was about listening. About being present and connecting with people.
And without meaning to, I started training the exact skills I’d always lacked socially.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was rewiring how I showed up with people in general. I stopped trying to sound interesting (or thinking I had to), and started being interested. I learned to pay attention and get curious about the other person.
And people responded. Not just in my coaching class, but in the conversations I used to avoid, small talk with cashiers, catching up with people I barely knew, even birthday dinners were a breeze now. People didn’t feel as scary anymore. And they opened up and relaxed around me too.
I liked it.
It was never the plan, and I sure as hell would have never thought it was possible to learn to become more social.
But somehow, I had.
What made the difference
One thing I didn’t expect was how much listening would change things.
It sounds simple, but when you really pay attention to someone (without waiting to speak, performing, or trying to sound smart), connection is almost inevitable. They open up. They feel safe. And you feel more at ease too.
Back when I used to think I didn’t need social connection, obviously I still wanted it. Of course I did, humans are wired for connection. I just buried those needs under stories that made the wanting easier to ignore.
But during my training, something shifted. Being around people stopped feeling like effort. That was new.
I used to think being good with people was about being interesting or charismatic. But it’s not. People just want to be heard.
They want space to talk about themselves, not because they’re self-absorbed, but because it helps them figure out what they think.
And when someone feels truly heard, they want to stay close.
That’s not a trick. It’s just what happens when you learn to connect.
You’re not designed or destined to be lonely. You’ve just never been taught how to connect.
P.S. Luckily, you can practice listening anytime, anywhere. Even a small change in how you listen can make your next conversation feel more connected. It’s the one thing that’s helped my social life the most. If you do go out there and you’re still struggling, I offer 1:1 sessions where we practice this together. You’ll transform the relationships you already have. And create new ones.
You almost exactly wrote the experience of the last few years of my life.