On Loneliness – And the Quiet Ways We Come Back to Ourselves

Let’s talk about loneliness. Not the Instagram-caption version of it – the real, heavy, hard-to-name kind. The kind that sneaks in even when you’re surrounded by people. The kind that whispers, “No one really sees me.”

As queer people, many of us carry loneliness like a second skin. It can come from growing up not seeing ourselves reflected. From being misunderstood in our families, our schools, our workplaces. From losing community when we come out. From trying to explain who we are in a world that still doesn’t always get it – or doesn’t want to.

Loneliness isn’t always loud. Sometimes it looks like scrolling too long. Cancelling plans you actually wanted to go to. Feeling like you're too much and not enough all at once. It’s that ache for connection, mixed with the fear that you won’t quite fit when you find it.

I want you to know that if you’ve felt like this — today, this week, or for what feels like forever — you’re not the only one. You’re not broken. You’re human.

And here’s the truth we don’t say enough: community is a skill, not a given. It’s something we build. It takes time, safety, and care. And for queer and trans people especially, it’s something we often have to rebuild over and over — in new places, with new people, in ways that actually reflect who we are now.

At Be/Here, we try to hold space for all of that. For the messy in-between. For the quiet bravery of showing up. For the soft, slow rebuilding of trust in others and in ourselves.

Whether it’s through one of our free workshops, a therapy session, or just showing up to a craft night or community event – you’re welcome here. Not just the shiny, polished version of you. The real you. The you that sometimes needs someone to just say: “Yeah, that’s hard. I get it.”

Because connection doesn’t have to be big or perfect. Sometimes it starts with a hello in a support group. A nod of recognition in a Zoom square. A shared moment of quiet with someone who just gets it.

We won’t pretend to have all the answers. But we do believe in coming back to ourselves – and to each other – one gentle step at a time.

Love and light

Vanessa