I can relate to some of what you’re describing, though from a different angle. I’ve always been somewhat of a loner, and as I’ve gotten older I’ve grown increasingly dissatisfied with the shallowness of many modern interactions: the constant glance at the screen, that black brick glued to the hand, the strange absence of attention even when you try to do something kind for someone. It often feels like we’re all performing a kind of theater of socialization.

One thing that helped me over the years was cultivating a richer inner life and maintaining some contact with nature. Long walks, quiet time, reading, building things slowly, the kinds of activities that don’t depend on an audience. At first that kind of solitude can feel oppressive, but with time it can also become a kind of freedom.

As you get older, or at least that has been my experience, you begin to realize how precious each moment is, and how little sense it makes to spend too much of it on interactions that feel hollow. Real presence, even if rare, becomes much more valuable.

Your situation is clearly different, and the transition you’re going through sounds genuinely hard. But sometimes these chapters also open space to rediscover parts of yourself that were quiet for a long time. I wish you strength navigating this change, and I hope you eventually find a rhythm that feels meaningful again.