Maybe It's Not Loneliness. Maybe It's a Life Shift.

Lately, I've found myself asking a question that I can't quite answer: Have I isolated myself because of grief and entrepreneurship or do I just not have that many friends anymore? Either way, I feel like I'm in the middle of yet another life shift. I'm curious,  does anyone else ever feel this way?


The older I get, the more I realize life doesn't always change with some big, dramatic moment. Sometimes it happens quietly. One day you look up and realize your circle isn't what it used to be. You aren't getting the same texts, making spontaneous dinner plans, or catching up over coffee every weekend. At first, I wondered if something was wrong with me. Then I started wondering if this is simply what growth looks like.


Over the past few years, I've experienced two things that have completely changed me: grief and entrepreneurship. Losing my dad shifted something in me that I don't think will ever go back to the way it was. At the same time, building businesses, creating events, pitching brands, and constantly thinking about what's next has consumed so much of my energy. Somewhere between navigating loss and chasing dreams, I became incredibly comfortable being alone. I don't know if it happened intentionally or if it was just survival, but solitude slowly became my normal.


The interesting thing is, I actually enjoy my own company. I genuinely love traveling solo. I can spend an entire afternoon wandering through a city, sitting in a coffee shop with my laptop, or exploring somewhere new without feeling lonely. In many ways, those moments have helped me reconnect with myself. But lately, I've started noticing the difference between enjoying solitude and unintentionally isolating yourself. They're not the same thing.


I don't have a huge group chat that's constantly buzzing. I don't have plans every weekend. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, "Who would I even call just to grab dinner tonight?" That's a strange realization to have, especially when you're someone who spends so much time around people through work, conferences, television, and events. You can be surrounded by people and still feel like your personal circle has become incredibly small.


Maybe that's what your forties are supposed to look like. I've heard so many people say your circle naturally gets smaller as you get older. You become more protective of your time, your peace, and your energy. Surface-level friendships don't feel as fulfilling anymore, and you begin craving conversations that are deeper and more intentional. If that's true, maybe what I'm feeling isn't loneliness at all. Maybe it's transition.
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This year has certainly felt like one. I postponed my June conference until October. For the first time in more than a decade, I don't have monthly contracts filling my calendar. Instead of immediately trying to fill every empty space, I decided to leave the U.S. for a while and spend the summer in Montreal. I needed room to think. To breathe. To dream again. To figure out what the next version of my life and business looks like.


I've realized that growth often creates space before it creates clarity. That space can feel uncomfortable because we're so used to staying busy. We mistake constant motion for progress, when sometimes the greatest progress happens in the quiet. Maybe that's where I am right now not lost, but being redirected.


As I sit with these thoughts, I'm trying to stop asking myself why my circle feels different and instead ask a better question: Who am I becoming, and who is meant to walk into this next chapter with me? Maybe I'm making room for friendships that align with the woman I'm becoming instead of the woman I used to be. Maybe this season isn't about loss at all maybe it's about making space.


If you've been feeling this way too, I hope you know you're not alone. Life has a way of quietly reshaping us. Sometimes we don't even notice it until we're standing in a new season wondering how we got there. But maybe that's the beauty of growth. We don't always recognize we're becoming someone new until we finally look up.


For now, I'm choosing to trust the process. I'm choosing to believe that this season of solitude isn't permanent, that new friendships, deeper connections, and unexpected opportunities are still ahead. And maybe, just maybe, this life shift is exactly what I needed even if I couldn't see it while it was happening.