Recently, I watched an interview between Nicole Walters-Csillag and LaNise Thrasher, and something they said stopped me in my tracks.
LaNise shared:
“A lot of people just don’t know who they are, and if you don’t know who you are, you don’t know who you’re going to attract.“
She continued by talking about the importance of praying, acknowledging how you feel, unlearning what no longer serves you, setting boundaries, and embracing who you are becoming.
Then she said something that lingered with me long after the video ended:
“It is okay to say I’m lonely out loud.“
That one sentence found me.
Because it made me revisit many of the thoughts I’ve shared over the years about divorce, healing, confidence, and rebuilding a life after a major life transition.
For a long time, I viewed divorce as the defining event.
Now I see it differently.
Divorce is a moment in time.
An event.
The real journey happens afterward.
The years spent discovering who you are when the life you once knew no longer exists.
The healing.
The rebuilding.
The unlearning.
The redefining.
The learning to love yourself.
The learning to trust yourself.
The learning to create a life that feels beautiful even when you’re the only one sitting at the table.
That journey is where transformation happens.
And if I’m honest, I’ve spent a lot of years doing that work.
I’ve built a life I genuinely enjoy.
I enjoy solo dining.
I enjoy traveling alone.
I enjoy quiet mornings.
I enjoy my career.
I enjoy creating.
I enjoy my family.
I enjoy my friendships.
I enjoy my own company.
And yet…
I am lonely.
There.
I said it.
Out loud.
For many of us “ole heads,” we were taught there was a difference between being alone and being lonely.
Being alone was acceptable.
Being lonely felt like a deficiency.
As though admitting loneliness somehow meant we had failed to heal, failed to grow, or failed to develop a relationship with God.
Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that loneliness was something to hide.
Something to pray away.
Something to avoid admitting.
But I no longer believe that.
You can have a beautiful relationship with God and still experience loneliness.
You can be emotionally healthy and still experience loneliness.
You can be confident and still experience loneliness.
You can enjoy your own company and still experience loneliness.
You can have a full life and still desire companionship.
None of those things cancel each other out.
In fact, I think pretending they do is part of the reason so many women suffer in silence.
We become so skilled at carrying our lives that we stop admitting when we’d like someone to help carry them with us.
Not because we can’t.
Because we don’t always want to.
When I think about what I miss, it isn’t rescuing.
It isn’t dependency.
It isn’t someone paying my bills.
It isn’t someone validating my worth.
What I miss is much simpler than that.
I miss the calls checking in on me.
The texts letting me know I’m on someone’s mind.
The invitation to spend time together.
The inside jokes.
The laughter.
The touch.
The comfort of knowing there is someone who is intentionally choosing you.
Not because they need you.
Because they want you.
For a long time, I avoided saying that out loud.
I felt embarrassed by it.
After all, hadn’t I built this incredible solo life?
Hadn’t I proven I could stand on my own?
Hadn’t I done the work?
Yes.
And that’s exactly why I can finally tell the truth.
Loneliness doesn’t erase any of that.
It doesn’t diminish my growth.
It doesn’t diminish my faith.
It doesn’t diminish my confidence.
It doesn’t diminish the life I’ve built.
It simply means I am human.
Perhaps the greatest surprise of healing is realizing that once you’ve found yourself, you become more aware of the places where connection would be welcomed.
Not needed.
Welcomed.
There is a difference.
I am no longer looking for someone to complete me.
I am no longer looking for someone to save me.
I am no longer looking for someone to define me.
I simply look around at the life
I’ve built and think:
It would be nice to share some of this.
And maybe that’s what LaNise’s words gave me permission to understand.
Loneliness isn’t a sign that something is wrong.
Sometimes it’s simply an honest acknowledgment that while you’ve become comfortable in your own presence, you still desire meaningful connection.
And there is nothing weak about saying that.
So today, from the top of my voice, I’m saying it out loud:
I am lonely.
Not broken.
Not incomplete.
Not desperate.
Not lacking.
Just human.
And finally honest enough to admit it.
— Bettina
Confidence lives here.
Dear Friend,
Have you ever felt lonely and hesitated to admit it because you worried it would diminish your strength, independence, or faith?
What truth might you finally be ready to say out loud?