04/06/2026
People often assume loneliness means being alone. It doesn’t. Loneliness is standing in a crowded room, surrounded by conversations, and still feeling disconnected. It’s arriving at an event on your own and spending the first twenty minutes wondering where to stand, who to talk to, and whether anyone will notice if you leave.
I know that feeling.
I work on my own, which means days can pass with very little meaningful interaction. Then I go to events alone, hoping to meet people, yet often find myself standing at the edge of a group, trying to work out who looks approachable enough to start a conversation with. Sometimes I manage it. Sometimes I don’t.
Believe me, I haven’t got it figured out.
Menopause can add another layer to this experience. We talk about hot flushes, sleep problems and brain fog, but we don’t talk enough about the emotional shifts. Confidence can take a knock. Anxiety can appear out of nowhere. Social situations that once felt easy can suddenly feel exhausting.
Mental health and loneliness are closely linked. When we’re lonely, our minds often tell us stories: that we’re the only one struggling, that everyone else has stronger friendships, that we’re somehow getting it wrong. Those thoughts can become louder during menopause, when hormones, sleep disruption and life changes are already putting pressure on our emotional wellbeing.
What I’ve learned is that courage doesn’t always look like confidence. Sometimes courage is simply showing up. Walking into the room when you’d rather stay home. Starting a conversation even when your heart is racing.
I still have moments when I feel isolated. I still look around a room and wonder who I might be brave enough to talk to. But I keep going.
Maybe that’s enough.
Can you relate?
