Hey there ,

I was taught early on: do it on your own. 

Don’t ask for help.

Don’t cry.

Don’t need.

Weakness was something to avoid at all cost.

For a while, that armor worked.

I white-knuckled my way through pain, disappointments, and the endless pressure to “hold it together.”

But fortunately, life broke through my defenses.

It was the loss of a relationship—the rejection and forced isolation that finally cracked me open.

The pain got too loud to ignore.

I found myself whispering the words I’d been trained never to say: “I need help.”

Those were the most painful moments of my life—and the beginning of a whole new lifestyle.

“Leave me alone.”

It’s a sort of prayer, isn’t it?

Like most prayers, or affirmations—if we stay with it long enough—they come true.

Being alone was the opposite of what I wanted.

But fear is a powerful god.

Why Isolation Feels Safer

We’re not built for isolation. We’re social creatures.

From birth, our nervous system is wired to regulate through connection.

Babies cry until they’re held. Children run to a trusted adult after a nightmare.

But when we’ve been abandoned—whether through neglect, betrayal, or emotional absence—our sense of connection gets warped.

We don’t know who to trust.

Our internal compass, what some call “the picker,” goes haywire.

So we protect ourselves.

We retreat into isolation because relationships feel dangerous.

Or we run to the wrong people again and again, hoping this time will be different.

Both leave us wounded.

And because pain demands relief, many of us medicate the loneliness with alcohol, food, obsessive love, sex, work, or endless scrolling. It works—until it doesn’t.

The Lie of Self-Reliance

Our culture rewards the lone wolf.

We admire the person who “pulls themselves up by their bootstraps.”

It’s physically impossible by the way. Think about it.

Self-reliance, when born of trauma, is a prison.

Healing never happens in a vacuum.

Why?

Because our deepest wounds were delivered in relationship.

The shame we carry wasn’t born in silence—it was born in someone else’s eyes, tone, neglect, or cruelty.

Even if our abandonment wasn’t intentional—over-worked, under-emotional parents for example—the antidote has to include other people.

The Courage to Be Seen

If you’ve spent years in hiding, the first attempts at connection will feel terrifying.

Trusting again is like learning to walk after an accident—you wobble, you fall, and every step feels exposed.

But here’s the paradox: it’s only through this shaky process of showing up with others that healing takes root.

In a safe group, the tears we stuffed down for decades finally find air.

The stories we thought would repel others are met with nods of recognition.

The shame we thought would kill us begins to dissolve.

That’s when we realize: this is how healing happens.

Unknown Friends

Jung’s line about “unknown friends” has always struck me as more than a metaphor.

In my own journey, when I stopped pretending I could do it all alone, I stumbled into circles of people who understood.

Men and women committed to honesty.

People who were done numbing themselves to death.

At first, I thought it was coincidence.

But now I know: when we start the work, when we step out of isolation, life has a way of sending us companions.

Not perfect people—just fellow travelers who are also laying down their masks.

The Doorway Back to Joy

The greatest reward of breaking isolation isn’t just relief from pain.

It’s rediscovering joy.

Many of us left our joy back in childhood—buried under fear, shame, and the demand to perform.

But when we allow ourselves to be seen, that aliveness stirs again.

We laugh harder. We cry freer. We remember what it feels like to belong.

It doesn’t mean we stop being afraid. It means we stop letting fear drive the car.

A Final Word

If you’ve been stuck in isolation, you don’t have to leap into the deepest pool right away.

Start small. Share honestly with one person.

Step into a group where people are practicing presence.

Notice how your body feels when it’s safe enough to stop bracing.

Isolation promises safety, but delivers suffering.

Connection feels risky, but it’s the only doorway to healing.

That doorway is waiting. The question is: will you walk through?

—

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.
Just hit reply and let me know.

Glad to be on the path with you,

Bob

PS. The Inner Work Community, a safe space to heal, connect, and grow together, is accepting new members. ENROLLMENT CLOSES SUNDAY NIGHT. Check it out here.

PPS. Let’s keep this healing movement alive:

• Get my new book - Stop Doing Sh*t You Don’t Want to Do! Write an amazing review here. The Audiobook is now available on Audible, Spotify, Google Play, and Libro!

• Coaching/Therapy - I have a small practice for people deeply committed to the work. I also have a group of skilled colleagues with the same somatic healing orientation. Reply if interested.

• Resources. You can go here for free and low-cost recovery and healing resources.

• Reply. I would love to hear your experience, strength, and hope. Just reply to this email. We publish a monthly roundup of reader responses.