Is it really loneliness? or something deeper…

Vulnerable share ahead.

There are moments when I feel lost. Stuck. Not like the woman I know myself to be. The feelings that rise up are so big, so loud, they nearly drown out everything else. I used to call it loneliness. But now I know better.

Because when I sit with that ache—when I stop resisting it—something else always rises underneath. Not just sadness, not just silence, but an invitation.

An invitation to come closer. To myself. To the parts of me I’ve ignored. To the ones still waiting to be seen.

Here’s a journal entry from one of those moments. To give you some context: this came from a younger part of me—my inner child. She’s the one who always knew what to do, the one people turned to. But now that her old job is gone, she feels untethered. Without her usual role, she’s unsure of her worth, lost in the vastness of freedom she doesn’t know how to hold. The grief you’ll read here is hers.

Instead of rushing past it, I let it speak. I let her cry, rage, ache. I held her, and I stayed. Then I created something. I let her play. And that… was the beginning of the shift.

what am i helping people do
i can't even help myself right now
or can i...

i feel lost and alone
no roadmap
no way forward...

my heart wants to cry
it wants to be seen so badly
it hurts

And then, something changed:

i love you
i will never leave you
i am here now
i am here
i am here

This is the work I do — not just with my clients, but with myself.

This is parts work. Inspired by IFS (Internal Family Systems) and deeply aligned with tantric philosophy — the radical belief that everything belongs.

In tantra, nothing is exiled. Every emotion, every part, every shadow has value. When we reject a part of ourselves, it doesn’t go away — it just gets louder, more reactive. But when we welcome it, honor it, and give it room to speak, it softens. It no longer needs to hijack the system to get our attention.

Parts work is a transformational lens — one that brings compassion, clarity, and deeper connection to our inner world. When you understand that every thought, feeling, or behavior is a part of you trying to help, you stop trying to fix yourself and start learning how to care for yourself.

That’s when healing begins.

That’s when loneliness stops being the enemy… and becomes a message.

6 Reasons Why What Feels Like Loneliness Might Be Something Else

1. You were never emotionally attuned to as a child.
If your feelings weren’t mirrored, met, or validated, you might still be searching for that attunement — for someone to say, "I see you. I’m with you."

2. You’re in a trauma response.
Freeze, flight, fawn… they all lead us away from connection — not because we don’t want it, but because our body doesn’t feel safe enough to let it in.

3. You’re grieving an invisible loss.
Not all grief looks like death. Sometimes we’re grieving a version of ourselves, a relationship that no longer fits, or a childhood we never got to have.

4. You’re hiding parts of yourself to be accepted.
It’s hard to feel close to anyone when you’re only showing parts of your truth. The more we mask, the more alone we feel.

5. You’ve stopped expressing your truth.
When you silence your voice, you silence your lifeline to connection. Speaking your truth — even just to yourself — opens the door back up.

6. You’re disconnected from your body.
Loneliness can live in the body as tension, numbness, or ache. Reconnection starts with sensation, movement, breath — even placing your hand on your heart and saying, "I'm here."

This Is Big — And You’re Not Alone

Reading this list might feel like a gut punch. Or a huge exhale. Either way — it’s a big deal to notice these things.

And here’s the truth: That awareness is the start of your healing.

This is where parts work becomes such a powerful practice.

We all carry different inner parts that show up when life gets hard. My loneliness often points to my wounded inner child— the one who wants to be seen, held, and reassured. But maybe for you it’s:

• A Vixen who learned to seek validation through seduction.

• A Performer who earns love by always doing, achieving, and never resting.

• A Protector who shuts down to avoid vulnerability.

• A Rebel who would rather burn bridges than risk being abandoned.

• A Caregiver who overgives because that’s how she learned to stay safe.

Whatever part is showing up — it has something to say. Something it needs.

So the next time loneliness creeps in, ask yourself:

• What’s the felt sense in my body?

• What part of me is feeling unseen?

• What does that part need — right now?

Then give it to them. Or at least try.

Some ideas:

• The Vixen might need sensual touch, dance or affirmation that she is desirable and safe.

• The Protector might need boundaries, quiet and trust that you’ve got this.

• The Caregiver might need rest, softness, and a reminder: “You don’t have to earn love.”

• The Inner Child might just need to be held, to cry, to be reminded, “You’re not in trouble. I see you.”

And here’s the magic:

When those parts are witnessed, the ache transforms.

Loneliness becomes tenderness.
Confusion becomes clarity.
And all that empty space? It turns into creative possibility.

Not because you forced it… but because you finally listened.

You are not alone.
You’ve just been waiting for yourself.

What I’ve Learned About Self-Trust

Self-trust isn’t about always knowing what to do. It’s about staying. Staying with your heart. Staying with your body. Staying with the version of you that feels like a mess — and showing them love anyway.

It’s about breathing through the fog. Letting the ache be an opening. Letting the anger speak. Letting the softness return.

That’s where freedom lives.

So if you're in it — if you’re feeling lost, low, or lonely — pause and ask:

What part of me is needing to be seen right now?

If you’re in the ache, stay with it — it might be where your wholeness begins.