Confidence Unlocked

Tag: real life

  • When Summer Feels Lonely (Even When You Love the Sun)

    I’m a sun lover but I’m always aware of the solitude.

    Summer is supposed to be joyful.

    That’s what we’re told.

    It’s the season of light — bright skies, garden parties, beach days, bare legs and easy smiles. The world seems to come alive. People gather. Plans get made. And everywhere you look, there’s this sense that something good is happening.

    Summer solitude

    But what no one talks about is the ache that can live underneath all that sunshine.

    Because sometimes, the brightest season can cast the longest shadows.

    ☀️ The expectation of happiness can feel heavy

    Summer isn’t just about the weather — it comes with expectation.

    The pressure to be social. To be seen. To be out, smiling, thriving, living your “hot girl summer” or dancing on some rooftop with your friends at sunset.

    But what happens when you’re not in that space?

    What happens when your life is quiet right now — maybe too quiet?

    When your phone barely lights up. When no one’s inviting you out. When you’re scrolling through everyone’s stories and asking yourself why you feel like the only one standing still.

    The seasons can affect you in many different ways.

    That contrast? It hurts. And not because you’re bitter or antisocial.

    But because being alone in a season of togetherness can trigger a deeper kind of loneliness.

    🌡️ Summer exposes what winter can hide

    In winter, we’re almost expected to stay in. To withdraw a little.

    Everyone slows down. Everything gets a bit quieter, softer.

    But in summer? The world turns the volume up.

    Suddenly, people are reconnecting. Traveling. Dating. Posting their “forever person” like it’s a Pinterest ad.

    And even if you’re content most of the time, something about it makes you question your own life. Your relationships. Your worth.

    You wonder:

    Why does everyone seem so loved?

    So surrounded? So chosen?

    What am I missing?

    🌻 You’re not behind — you’re in your own season

    Here’s the truth, softly spoken:

    You are not behind just because your summer doesn’t look like theirs.

    It might be quieter. More reflective.

    Maybe you’re healing from things no one sees. Maybe you’re resetting.

    Maybe this summer isn’t about loud joy — maybe it’s about gentle restoration.

    Your summer can be:

    Sitting in the sun with your journal and a coffee Saying no to plans that drain you Creating a life that feels soft, slow, and safe Letting silence feel like sanctuary, not punishment Choosing yourself again and again, even when no one else is

    💬 You’re allowed to love the light and feel lonely in it

    This isn’t about choosing between joy and sadness.

    This is about making room for both.

    You can love the sun and still feel the ache of absence.

    You can enjoy your solitude and still wish you had someone to share the day with.

    You can be content with your own company — and still long for connection.

    You’re not too much. Or too sensitive. Or failing.

    You’re just human. And this is a very human season.

    🖤 Final thoughts

    So if summer feels a little tender this year — let it.

    Let yourself soften instead of toughen up.

    Let yourself feel the sting, but don’t stay stuck in the story that you’re not enough.

    Create your own rhythm.

    Romanticize the quiet moments.

    And know that not every chapter has to be loud to be beautiful.

    You are allowed to take up space this summer — even if it’s just for yourself.

    Especially if it’s just for yourself.

    If this touched something in you, I hope you know you’re not alone.

    Share it, pin it, or pass it to the friend who’s pretending to be okay.

    Because somewhere out there, another heart needs this softness too.

    With love always,

    Lorraine

    Confidence Unlocked 🔐

  • Modern Day Lonely

    Life is full but empty.

    You know what no one really talks about?

    How loud loneliness is these days.

    Modern day lonely isn’t just the quiet kind. It’s noisy. It’s everywhere. It’s messages popping up without meaning. It’s voice notes you never play. It’s social feeds full of people who wouldn’t even notice if you went quiet for a week. It’s being surrounded by connection, but still feeling… empty.

    Loneliness used to be simple. It was distance. Silence. Being alone.

    But now?

    Now it’s watching people post “you got this 💕” to strangers online while you sit on the edge of your bed wondering why no one checks in on you.

    It’s being “known” by hundreds but seen by no one.

    It’s having notifications but not real conversations. Being invited but not included. It’s performing joy instead of living it.

    Sometimes it’s pretending you’re “low maintenance” when really? You just don’t think anyone would show up if you actually needed them.

    Sometimes it’s saying you love your own company—when in truth, you’ve just learned how to be your own safe space because no one else felt safe.

    Modern loneliness looks like:

    Being in a room full of people and feeling completely invisible. Saying “I’m fine” because the alternative is too vulnerable and too exhausting. Smiling at memes that say “mentally I’ve already quit” because it’s easier than admitting you feel lost.

    It’s laughing in group chats and then crying in the shower.

    It’s staying “booked and busy” so you never have to sit in the silence.

    It’s craving a hug that isn’t digital.

    And yet…

    There’s something sacred in the stillness too.

    A strange kind of becoming.

    Because here’s the thing most people don’t realise:

    Loneliness doesn’t always mean you’ve failed.

    Sometimes it means you’re in the in-between.

    The space between who you were and who you’re becoming.

    Sometimes it means you’ve outgrown relationships built on survival, not connection.

    Sometimes it means you’re making space for the kind of love that sees you clearly and meets you gently.

    Loneliness can be healing too.

    Sometimes it means you’re learning how to choose yourself—even when no one else is choosing you.

    And that’s not weakness. That’s strength.

    That’s healing.

    So if you’re in that space right now—the scroll-without-feeling, lay-awake-without-crying, show-up-without-being-seen kind of space—just know this:

    You’re not broken. You’re not behind.

    You’re not too much, and you’re not too invisible.

    You’re simply in the middle of your own becoming.

    And if no one’s told you lately:

    I see you.

    And I’m proud of the way you’re still trying, still caring, still hoping.

    Even when it’s hard.

    Especially then.