What if your fear of being alone has been making decisions for you all along, without you even noticing? This might just be the wake-up call that helps you take back the steering wheel of your life, starting right now.
Today I’m going to talk to you about the fear of the void, and why we are so afraid of being alone. And, most importantly, why this might be the reason you’ve been making bad decisions your entire life.
Let’s be honest. Being alone can feel like standing at the edge of a black hole. You look in, and it stares right back. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Suddenly, you’re thinking about every choice you’ve ever made, every message left on read, every party you weren’t invited to. And it’s just you. You and the silence.
That silence? That’s the void.
Now, don’t panic. We’re going to talk about it.
But what is this “void”, really?
The void is not something exotic or abstract. It’s part of the furniture of human existence. It’s always there, maybe just pushed into a corner, hidden under the rug, but never gone.
It’s the inner emptiness we all try to dodge. And our strategy? Surround ourselves with people. Or meaningless plans. Or scrolling. Or noise. Or WhatsApp groups with memes we don’t even find funny anymore.
Because being alone, really alone, strips away the distractions. And that’s ffffffffff terrifying.
But, the funny thing is, we’re actually not afraid of solitude. We’re afraid of meeting ourselves.
Wow.
Ourselves.
You.
There’s a big difference between solitude and loneliness. Solitude can be peaceful, chosen, even empowering. Like having the house to yourself, pouring a glass of your favourite drink, watching your favourite show, or reading those other million chapters of that amazing Sarah J. Maas book. You know what I mean, right?
But loneliness? Ughhh. That’s the Sunday night dread. Ha. The scrolling through contacts and realising there’s no one you feel comfortable calling. The uncomfortable feeling when you realise: I don’t actually like my own company.
Look.
What we fear isn’t the absence of others. It’s the presence of ourselves, without filters, without performance. When we’re truly alone, we hear, like sweet whispers, the questions we’ve been avoiding all this time:
- Am I happy?
- Why did that relationship really end?
- What am I even doing with my life?
- What happens when we die?
And when those questions echo unanswered, the void feels endless.
I know, scary. To me too, don’t think for a second that I don’t feel the same.
And, in the meantime, the world tells us we must be connected. ALL THE TIME.
You see, we’re connected 24/7. Instagram stories, video calls, endless notifications. Yet more people report feeling lonely now than ever before. Why?
Because connection isn’t the same as presence.
We’ve actually built a culture where being alone is seen as failure.
Single? Must be looking.
Eating alone? How brave.
Travelling solo? Are you okay?
We’re encouraged to fill every silence. Buy something. Text someone. Post something. Keep moving. Because if you stop, the void might catch up. Good God!
But the thing is… the void isn’t chasing us. It’s inside us. And you can’t outrun your own shadow.
But, hold on.
It gets even scarier. Our fear of loneliness shapes our decisions, especially in relationships. And decisions made from fear never end well.
Ever stayed with someone not because you were happy, but because the thought of being alone was worse?
No, you don’t need to answer that question. And no, you’re not the only one.
Sometimes we confuse emotional need with love. We settle. We cling. We say yes when everything in us screams no.
Why?
Because the void is whispering, “If you leave, you’ll have no one.”
Scarier than Jack Torrance.
Think about it. How many people have stayed in loveless marriages, toxic friendships, or casual dating dark loops just because the alternative (aka, a quiet room and your own thoughts) felt unbearable?
We’re told, subtly and constantly, that being alone is a problem to be solved. So we rush. We latch on. And deep down, we know we’re lying to ourselves. But we hope, at least, we won’t have to feel that awful emptiness.
At least not tonight.
What I’m trying to say here is you don’t have to defeat the void. There’s no “life hack” or meditation app to delete it. I say, acknowledge it. Accept that emptiness is part of being human.
Let me say that again: you’re not broken if you feel empty sometimes. You’re just human.
And maybe the most courageous thing you can do is not to fill the void, but to sit with it. To listen to it. See what it has to say. You could even ask it, what am I really missing?
Sometimes the answer will surprise you. It’s not always a person or a thing. Sometimes, it’s you.
Let’s see an example.
I once knew a woman, let’s call her Anna (because confidentiality). She was in her thirties, newly single after a long relationship. She was terrified. She said, “I don’t even know what I like anymore. I’ve always done things with someone, for someone. I’ve never just… done them for me.”
The first few weeks were awful. She’d cry at night, stalk her ex on social media (like we all do), pretend she was “finding herself” when really, she felt like she was falling apart (like we all do).
But then, after some time, something shifted. She started going to the cinema alone. Scary at first, then sort of wonderful. She took long walks without music. Cooked for one. Joined a theatre club.
And one day, she told me, “You know what’s weird? I still feel the void. But now, it’s like a quiet friend. It’s just there. I don’t have to run anymore.”
There you go, magic.
This is the point when great things start to happen.
The most practical benefit of facing the void is: you stop making desperate decisions. When you’re no longer afraid of being alone, you choose better. You stop saying yes out of panic. You stop texting exes at midnight just because Netflix asked if you’re still watching and you weren’t ready for that kind of existential pressure.
When you’re comfortable being alone, your standards go up. Not out of arrogance, mind you. Out of clarity.
You want company? Great. But not any company. Not someone who drains you or shrinks you or fills the silence with noise instead of meaning.
The thing is, build a relationship with yourself that’s so solid, no one else becomes your crutch.
That’s freedom. Can you feel it?
That’s peace. Good God, it feels good!
That’s, dare I say, a version of happiness.
Now. Let’s not be naïve. I won’t allow this attitude in my own house.
The void will always be there, but it doesn’t have to scare you. Life brings absence. People leave. Things end. Grief comes. Plans fall apart. Even in the happiest moments, there’s a little ache, like a sense that something’s missing, or might go missing.
That’s the void too.
And yes, sometimes it will knock the air out of you. But it’s not a monster. It’s more like a mirror, if you like, one that shows you what you truly value, and what you’re afraid to face.
If you learn to befriend that space (meaning, if you can walk through it without flinching), there’s nothing left to fear.
You won’t become immune to loneliness. But it won’t control you anymore. Especially, it won’t control your life decisions.
So… what do I do now?
But maybe, just maybe, this is my wake-up call for you, to ask yourself:
- What decisions am I making just to avoid being alone?
- Do I even like the version of myself I meet in silence?
- What would happen if I stopped running?
Don’t worry, you don’t have to answer now. Maybe just let these questions linger in your mind for a few days. See what comes up.
And if you liked this newsletter, even though I made you think really hard about the state of your own life and you hate me for it, please, consider spreading the gloom and share this newsletter with someone you hate too.
Love,
Noemi
