Learning to Be My Own Anchor

There comes a time in life — a strange, bittersweet age — where you realize the friendships that once felt like everything have shifted. Some people grow distant, others drift away entirely, and you’re left standing in a quieter, more solitary world than you once knew.

This isn’t the loneliness you feared when you were younger. It’s something different, something that feels like a rite of passage. It’s the moment you realize that the people who once filled your life with noise, laughter, and plans can no longer be your primary source of joy. You look around, and it’s just you, your dreams, and the quiet. There are moments, especially in the evenings, when I look around and realize it’s just me — no one to text about something funny I saw, no one to make last-minute plans with. The laughter and companionship that once filled my days now echo only in memory.

At times, I wonder if this loneliness is just a natural part of growing up, of learning to rely less on others and more on myself. Maybe this phase of solitude is a way for life to teach me resilience, to help me find a strength within that isn’t dependent on anyone else. And maybe there’s a beauty in that lesson, however bittersweet it feels right now.

Although, this loneliness becomes a mirror, revealing parts of yourself you never knew were there. You realize that so much of your happiness was anchored in others, and now, you have to rebuild it on your own terms. You start taking small steps — maybe you pick up a hobby, go for walks, write, or simply sit with yourself in silence. The loneliness doesn’t vanish, but it becomes a part of you, something you carry without it carrying you.

There’s a strange beauty in learning to be okay on your own. You become stronger, more self-aware, and even grateful for the quiet moments that allow you to truly hear yourself. You begin to trust that, as hard as it feels, this season is preparing you for relationships built on depth, not convenience — relationships that resonate with the person you’re becoming.

So here I am, navigating this chapter, learning that loneliness doesn’t have to be something I run from. Instead, I’m learning to make it a part of my journey. I’m discovering that even in the emptiest of rooms, there is something valuable to be found. And maybe one day, when this season has passed, I’ll look back and realise that these lonely moments taught me the most important lesson of all: how to stand whole and content, all on my own.