Overcoming Isolation

Solidarity In Solitude

There was a time when solitude wasn’t something I chose—it was something I used to survive.
Before recovery, I isolated myself because I was afraid of being seen. Not seen in the beautiful, vulnerable, soul-baring way—but seen in the truth-revealing way. I was scared someone would notice the mess I had become.

So, I disappeared. I self-quarantined long before the world made it a shared experience. I believed I was safer alone, but really, I was hiding—from you, from judgment, and mostly, from myself.

It’s been over 14 years since I spoke my truth and reached for help, but during global moments of isolation—when the world closes its doors—I can still feel echoes of those darker days. I remember what it was like to live in solitude and mistake it for safety.

When Solitude Turns to Isolation

Solitude can be healing. But left unchecked, it can slip into something more dangerous: isolation.
When routines fall away, when connection fades, and when fear rises—our minds can convince us we’re better off alone. That no one wants to hear from us. That we’re too much, or not enough.

Sound familiar?

In times like these, it’s easy to slide down the emotional spiral. To disconnect. To feel like you’re the only one struggling. But that’s a lie the darkness tells us. Because you are not alone. And you are not the only one who feels this way.

We’ve all lost something—our routines, our rhythm, sometimes even loved ones. We’re all navigating this new version of life with uncertainty in our hearts. And yet, in the stillness, there’s a new kind of connection forming. One that doesn’t require proximity—but vulnerability.

The Power of Reaching Out

Connection doesn’t always have to look big. Sometimes, it’s a text. A check-in. A voice memo that simply says, “Hey, I’ve been thinking about you.”

For me, reaching out is part of my daily practice. It’s tied to my recovery and to my ability to stay grounded. On days when I’m struggling, being of service—asking someone else how they’re doing—pulls me out of my head and into something greater than myself.

When we shift our attention from our own anxiety to someone else’s experience, we gain clarity. We create space for compassion. And we remember: we’re never really alone.

You don’t need a grand gesture to make a difference. Sometimes just asking “How are you really?” is enough to change someone’s day. And, maybe, your own.

Solitude as a Shared Experience

Something beautiful has happened during times of collective pause: we’ve reached for one another. We’ve shared our fears, our frustrations, our funny moments. We’ve created art, music, stories—and sent them out like lifeboats into the unknown.

We’ve remembered what matters most: people. Connection. Empathy. And in this shared stillness, we’ve found solidarity.

We’re walking forward—not hand in hand, but heart to heart. And though we may be separated by space, our spirits remain side by side.

We were never meant to do this alone. Not healing. Not grieving. Not growing.

We Are Stronger Together

When we choose to stay connected—even in the smallest ways—we create a safety net. We tether ourselves to something real. And if one of us starts to drift, there’s someone who will notice. Someone who will reach back and say, “You’ve been quiet. Are you okay?”

That’s the power of community. That’s the gift of solidarity.

So, if you’ve been isolating—whether out of fear, shame, exhaustion, or uncertainty—I want to remind you that connection is still available. Right now. Today.

Open a window. Wave at your neighbor. Call a friend. Join an online support group. Say hi in the comments. Let someone know you’re here.

Because when we reach for one another, solitude becomes strength. And our solitude becomes solidarity.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

  • S: Have you been staying connected or isolating lately? What do you notice about that?

  • L: What fears come up for you when you think about reaching out?

  • A: Who could you check in on today, even just with a short message or call?

  • Y: What does community mean to you, and how can you stay more present in it—even from a distance?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
How are you staying connected, or where are you struggling to reach out?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s isolating, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

One Voice In A Large Choir

It started with a single tap. Then another. Then a steady rhythm.

I was sitting in my car when the rain began to fall. It started slow—one drop, then another—until it became a chorus. And as I sat listening, it reminded me of the beginning of my recovery journey.

That quiet build into something greater reflected what it felt like to go from being alone to being part of a group. From silence to solidarity. From isolation to inclusion.

Becoming a “Group Person”

For a long time, I insisted I wasn’t a group person. I told myself I preferred one-on-one connection, that I worked better alone. And in some ways, that was true. But it was also a shield. A story I told myself to avoid being seen too closely.

When I started recovery, I was encouraged to join a group. Just try it, they said. Keep an open mind. So I did—nervously, reluctantly, with my heart pounding in my chest.

As I scanned the room that first night, I was sure I didn’t belong. These people looked “normal.” They laughed. They smiled. I made a quiet deal with myself: stay for the hour, then leave.

But then a woman began to speak. And what she shared—her pain, her fear, her struggle—sounded a lot like mine. My guard dropped just a little. I kept listening. More voices joined in. Not every story mirrored my own, but enough did. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.

From Loner to One of Many

I kept going. Not just to that meeting, but to others.

Even when it was hard to speak. Even when it felt awkward to introduce myself. Even when all I could do was sit and listen—I showed up. And slowly, I found myself becoming part of something.

For someone who had always prided herself on independence, this shift felt strange—but also incredibly healing. There’s power in walking into a room where no one needs you to be anyone other than who you are that day.

In group, we’re not our resumes. We’re not our past mistakes. We’re not our fears. We’re just people—trying, learning, healing. Together.

And eventually, I stopped saying I wasn’t a group person. Because I realized I’d become one.

The Strength of a Shared Voice

There’s strength in numbers, but more importantly, there’s connection in numbers.

When we come together with a shared purpose—whether it’s healing, growing, or simply supporting one another—we amplify each other’s voices. We lift one another up. We carry each other forward.

Being part of a group reminded me that I don’t have to do this alone. And more than that, it reminded me that I don’t want to.

That lesson followed me outside of recovery. I began to see how I could be part of something bigger in all areas of my life—work, community, friendships. Today, I don’t walk into a room wondering what I can get. I ask myself what I can give. Even if it’s just a kind word or a warm smile.

You Still Matter in the Crowd

Some of us naturally gravitate toward solitude. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

But if we never join in, we might miss the magic of what happens when our voice joins others. A single voice is beautiful—but a choir? That’s transformation.

Your story, your energy, your experience—they’re all valuable. And when you bring them into a shared space, you become part of something powerful.

Don’t underestimate the impact of your presence. Sometimes showing up is the biggest gift you can give—to others and to yourself.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

  • S: Do you naturally lean toward solitude or connection? Why do you think that is?

  • L: What fears come up for you in group settings, and where do those fears stem from?

  • A: Have you ever felt seen or supported by a group? What made that experience meaningful?

  • Y: How can you contribute your voice to a group or community today—without needing it to be perfect, just honest?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever discovered strength or healing by joining a group or community?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s afraid to take that first step into a group, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.