Breaking the Cycle Is Lonely—But It’s Worth It

More often than I’d like to admit, I wondered if I was the problem. And not because I was making unhealthy choices. But because my healthy choices were making me feel lonely. I grew up used to feeling like the black sheep in my family, friend group, or wherever else I flocked to. Sometimes it was obvious. I was calmer and quieter than many of the people around me. Other times it was not obvious and I blended in with the others so well— smiling, laughing at jokes, and being immersed in the environment. When I first announced in high school that I was vegetarian, you would’ve thought I killed someone by the way people reacted. So many were offended by what I chose not to put in my own body. Back then, I felt so conflicted and isolated. Now, I laugh and am proud of my younger self for standing strong on her beliefs. In moments like that, the feeling of loneliness existed only in my head. 

Over the years, I've intentionally begun to make more “outrageous” choices and changes in my life. Some may call these choices crazy, but I call them healthier. When I moved to Hawaiʻi at seventeen, I experienced loneliness in a new way. I was physically distant from everything I’d ever known, and emotionally disconnected from the people around me. Looking back, I realize that move prepared me for another kind of loneliness—the kind that comes from becoming someone new.

Lately, as I’ve been working toward creating a new life, the former feelings of loneliness have started to swim to the surface. I found myself constantly questioning my motives, hoping I wasn’t moving from a place of pride or judgment. I questioned and doubted myself. I felt consumed with guilt. Not because I was making bad choices. I was only making choices that looked different from others. I said no not to make someone feel bad, but because my peace mattered. Yet, sometimes being different feels conflicting, confusing, and lonely. 

Going back to how things used to be seemed easier. But that’s the thing about cycles: they rely on ease and comfort. Breaking cycles requires change to be made. Change does not always feel good. But we are not supposed to always feel good. Times of discomfort are okay— in fact necessary. When you exercise, there will be moments where your body feels tense and tired. But after a period of consistency, you will eventually visibly notice the growth. The strength that once felt impossible becomes your new normal. Nonetheless, those benefits only come after you press through the stagnation, discomfort, and tension. 

Some people fear change. Some egos despise change. Regardless of how others feel about change, the fact of the matter is that change creates distance. You start saying no more often. The plans begin to come around less and less. Old dynamics crumble. The same jokes are no longer funny. I remember the silence when an insult disguised as a joke was said and instead of fake laughter, the silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You no longer tolerate the same behavior. You walk out of rooms quicker. The silences are longer and louder. People get used to you playing certain roles. Either they will adjust or they won’t. There comes a certain point where you hope that they will adjust and that they will reach out to you but you realize that silence is the new normal. This hope transmutes into loneliness because you realize that they were only comfortable with who you used to be. Ultimately, you become unrecognizable to the people who have always known you to be a certain way. You begin to feel uneasy inside when you realize that certain behaviors you once tolerated no longer sit right with your spirit. The mental dialogue was invisible to others but catastrophic to me. 

I felt more isolated than ever. The distance was heavy. Grief then comes to join the conversation. You begin to grieve the life you once lived. The places you once used to go to. The people you used to accompany. Healing is not easy, nor is it all about gaining. Healing requires you to release certain parts of your life. You can be proud of yourself and excited for the future while simultaneously grieving what was. Or even grieving what never was. Sometimes I feel sad that I never had or will have certain experiences— a childhood that didn’t involve adult responsibilities, a simple college experience, connections without betrayal. But I don’t stay in sadness. I acknowledge and feel the grief and continue staying focused on what’s for me. 

The word lonely can have negative connotations. By definition, loneliness is the state of emotional sadness or longing. But longing for something or feeling sad does not mean to be without love. I did not question whether I was loved. I knew I was loved. But I knew I was loved in a certain way, under specific conditions, in ways that intergenerational trauma knew how to love. I had to accept. I had to stop fighting reality. Acceptance became part of my healing. I had to accept that people can love you and still be unable to love you in the ways you need. 

Sometimes people will stay in the same spot for years; meanwhile, you’re evolving. People and places can only meet you where they are. I had to adjust and realize that this feeling of loneliness and distance is simply part of the journey. I was not doing anything wrong. I was just doing something no one before me has done. I was becoming someone no one had modeled for me. Maybe that’s why it felt lonely. Maybe loneliness isn’t proof we’re losing our way. Maybe it’s proof we’re walking a path no one before us has walked. And if that’s true, then perhaps one day our children won’t have to be the first. They won’t have a childhood filled with adult responsibilities. They’ll simply have a childhood.