There’s something about the holidays that makes me feel even more emotionally empty. The table is full. Plates are piled high with food. Laughter echoes around me. But no matter how much I eat, how many conversations I participate in, or how many moments I try to enjoy, I still feel hollow.
I’m here, physically present, surrounded by people, yet I still feel alone. This emptiness isn’t new. The loneliness never leaves. It’s a constant companion — the only one I’ve got.
A Lifetime of Loneliness
Invisible at School
As a child, I was always the outsider. At school, I looked around and saw everyone else connecting while I just watched from the sidelines. I was physically there, but emotionally absent. I never quite fit in, no matter how hard I tried.
The loneliness was palpable. It was as if I existed but didn’t really matter. My classmates seemed to know how to be part of the world, but I couldn’t make sense of it. I never felt understood. I was always a step behind, trying to belong in a place that didn’t seem to want me there.
Emotional Distance at Home
At home, things weren’t much different. I had parents who loved me, but love, in the way they showed it, always felt distant. We had surface-level conversations like “How was school?” or “How was your day?” but there was never an attempt to understand what was really going on inside me. There was no effort to bridge the gap between us.
It’s strange because I can’t even pinpoint when I started feeling this way. Was it when I was younger, and I couldn’t find my place among the other kids? Or was it the slow realization that, no matter how hard I tried, I could never communicate what I was feeling? Or maybe it was when I realized that even if I could express it, no one would listen in a way that made me feel understood.
I don’t know. But I do know this: this ache has been with me for as long as I can remember. It’s the emptiness I carry inside, no matter where I am or who I’m with.
The Emptiness That Food Can’t Fill
When the holidays roll around, the emptiness grows. The food is abundant, the people are around, but it never fills me. It never makes me feel whole.
No matter how much I eat, no matter how much I try to distract myself, the emptiness is still there, quietly waiting for me. It’s as if everything around me is a reflection of what’s missing inside of me. The louder everything gets, the quieter I feel.
I’ve come to realize that this emptiness isn’t something that can be fixed with a plate of food, a present, or even a hug. It’s deeper; I feel disconnected from myself1. I don’t know who I am or how I fit into the world. It’s the feeling of being unimportant, invisible, lost even when I’m standing right in front of everyone.
When I try to reach out and explain how I feel, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. I talk. They pretend to listen, but they don’t really hear me.
Present, but Not Seen
When I think about my childhood, I think about all the times I tried to get someone to notice that something was wrong. I remember all the things I never said, the emotions that swirled inside me, trapping me in my own mind. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to connect with people — it’s that I couldn’t. There was a wall between us that no one seemed to see, but I felt it every day.
I remember the isolation that came with being different. The loneliness of being surrounded by people who seemed to have it all figured out while I was just… there. There but never really present.
Even now, as an adult, I can walk into a room full of people and still feel like a ghost. There’s this deep, aching loneliness inside of me that never goes away. It’s as if the more I try to fix myself, the more broken I feel. I keep trying to fill the void, but it never works. And I don’t know what to do with it anymore.
Sitting with the Void
I often wonder why I still struggle with this. Why, after all these years, I still feel unseen, misunderstood, completely detached at times. I wonder if it’s because of how my parents were — or weren’t — there for me. They loved me, but they didn’t know how to love me in the way I needed. I don’t blame them for that; it’s just the way it was. But that lack of emotional connection left me to fend for myself. It taught me that the only person I could count on was myself.
There’s a void inside of me, and no matter how hard I try to fill it — with food, exercise, work — nothing can distract me. Nothing can “fix” me.
But maybe it’s not about fixing the broken pieces. Maybe it’s about sitting with them and realizing that I don’t need to be “whole” or “perfect” to be worthy of love, connection, or belonging. In the space between what’s missing and what I wish I had, maybe there’s room for acceptance.
Until then, I’ll sit at the table and pass the food around. I’ll smile when I’m expected to. I’ll go through the motions — during the holidays and every day of my life. Just as I always have. I’ll keep carrying this emptiness with me, quietly hoping that one day, someone will see it and understand it without me having to explain.
- Psychology Today explains what it means to feel emotionally empty and disconnected from your feelings. ↩︎
