I've spent most of my life feeling like I don't belong anywhere. It's a kind of loneliness that goes deeper than just being alone. It's the feeling of being surrounded by people but still feeling completely disconnected, like there's an invisible wall between me and everyone else.
Growing up, I didn't fit in with my own family. The dysfunction at home made me feel like an outsider even in the place I was supposed to call home. I watched other families and wondered what it would be like to feel wanted, to feel like I was part of something. But that feeling never came.
School was no easier. Making friends felt impossible. I would watch other kids laughing together, connecting so naturally, and I couldn't understand how they did it. It was like everyone else had been given instructions on how to be human, how to connect with others, and somehow I missed that day. I felt like an alien observing a species I could never truly join.
The loneliness became so heavy that it hurt. Not the kind of hurt you can point to or explain to a doctor. It's a deep ache that sits in your chest and follows you everywhere. I wanted so desperately to connect with people, to feel like I mattered to someone, but I didn't know how. Every attempt felt awkward and forced.
Even simple things that other people did without thinking twice made me feel strange. Going to a coffee shop alone. Traveling by myself. Activities that should have been enjoyable became reminders of how different I was, how disconnected I felt from the world around me.
People would try to help. They'd say I was just shy or introverted. But it was so much more than that. Shy people can connect when they feel comfortable. Introverts recharge alone but still have meaningful relationships. What I experienced was different. It was like being locked in a room and watching life happen through a window, never able to step through and join in.
The only thing I could truly connect with was my addiction. It filled the void, numbed the pain, and gave me something to hold onto when everything else felt empty. It became my relationship, my comfort, my escape from the unbearable feeling of not belonging anywhere or to anyone.
I tried therapy over the years. Therapists would listen, and I could see the sympathy in their eyes. They felt sorry for me, which somehow made it worse. They wanted to help, but even they didn't seem to know how to treat what was really wrong. We'd talk about symptoms, behaviours, coping strategies, but the core wound remained untouched. That deep, aching loneliness that shaped everything about how I experienced the world.
No one seemed to truly understand what I was feeling. How do you explain to someone that you feel fundamentally unwanted? That you've never experienced true belonging? That you watch people connect and it looks like magic you'll never be able to perform? The words never seemed adequate to capture the depth of the isolation.
For years, I carried this alone. I thought maybe this was just who I was, that some people are meant to go through life disconnected. I thought maybe I was broken in a way that couldn't be fixed.
But something started to shift when I found 12 step programs. For the first time, I was in rooms full of people who understood a piece of what I'd been carrying. They knew about the addiction, yes, but they also knew about the loneliness underneath it. They understood using something to fill a void that felt bottomless.
Slowly, with the help of these programs and continuing therapy, things began to change. Not overnight, and not in dramatic ways at first. But I started to feel tiny connections forming. I learned that belonging doesn't always look the way I thought it would. Sometimes it starts with just one person who sees you, or a group where you feel slightly less alien than usual.
The work of healing these core wounds is ongoing. Some days I still feel that old familiar loneliness creeping in. I still have moments where I watch people connect and feel like I'm on the outside. But now I have tools, support, and most importantly, hope that connection is possible.
I'm learning that I'm not as alone in this feeling as I thought. There are others who have felt this same deep disconnection, who have wondered if they'd ever truly belong anywhere. And in finding each other, we've started to create the belonging we'd been searching for all along.
If you're reading this and you recognize yourself in these words, I want you to know something: you're not broken beyond repair. The loneliness you feel is real and valid, and it's not your fault. There is help available, and connection is possible, even when it feels impossible. You deserve to belong, to be wanted, to feel connected. It might take time, and it might look different than you imagined, but it is possible.