Emma’s Story – From Solitude to Strength: Embracing Loss and Finding Purpose
My name’s Emma, and I’m a freelance writer, yoga teacher, and mental health advocate. I moved to London almost two years ago to study for a Master’s in Arts and Lifestyle Journalism at the University of Arts London.
While many people experience loneliness when moving to a new city, my journey with loneliness began much earlier—around the age of 13.
At that time, my identical twin sister was diagnosed with a severe eating disorder—Anorexia Nervosa—and spent the next seven years in and out of psychiatric units across the UK.
Though I understand it now, back then, I didn’t fully grasp why this affected me so deeply. Through therapy, I’ve realized that this was a profoundly traumatic experience for my 13-year-old self.
“Losing” my other half to a life-threatening mental illness left me feeling abandoned and disconnected from my peers. My teenage years were marked by a deep sense of loneliness. More than anything, I wanted my sister—my best friend—back. As I grew older, that longing turned into anger.
I resented my sister for what she was putting our family through and blamed my parents for “neglecting” me and my siblings. In response, I developed what I now recognize as “hyper-independence,” convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone.
I fled to the United States for months at a time, escaping the reality of home. When it came time for university, I deliberately chose a school far from my family, as if to prove a point. Beneath the hardened exterior, however, was a deeply lonely and vulnerable teenager who didn’t know how to process her emotions. I was in survival mode, coping in the only ways I knew how.
By my early twenties, my loneliness was compounded by grief. At twenty-two, right at the beginning of the pandemic, my dad was given a six-month cancer prognosis. He passed away in September 2020. Losing him so quickly at such a young age left me feeling even more disconnected from my peers.
Now, as I navigate my mid-twenties, “milestone moments” like graduations, weddings, and the thought of having children amplify my loneliness. But perhaps the most isolating part of losing my dad so young is how others tiptoe around the topic of grief, as if ignoring it will make it hurt less. (If only it worked that way!)
Despite the pain, my response to my dad’s passing has been life-changing. My unwavering belief that the stigma around grief and loss must change has given me a sense of direction. I’ve experienced what’s known as “post-traumatic growth”—a deep shift in emotional maturity, resilience, and purpose.
For years, I reacted to my sister’s illness in ways that made me feel powerless. But with this second trauma, I chose to channel my grief into something meaningful.
During the second COVID lockdown, I dedicated every waking moment to self-publishing my guided grief journal, From Prognosis to Peace: Navigating Grief through Gratitude, Discovery, and Healing.
That book became the catalyst for so many positive changes in my life, paving the way for my career in writing and mental health advocacy. It fueled a deeper sense of purpose, aligning my work with my values.
From volunteering with St. Barnabas Hospice—where I helped raise £22,661 for families in end-of-life care—to completing my Master’s degree in December, I’ve found that my feelings of loneliness have become more transient over time.
Of course, there are still moments when loneliness creeps in—like after a tough breakup earlier this year. But now, I recognize those feelings for what they are. I view them objectively and use them as a guide to prioritize different areas of my life.
As a natural introvert with social anxiety, I have a tendency to retreat into solitude. It takes significant effort for me to put myself out there socially. When loneliness strikes, my first instinct isn’t to go to a party or even grab coffee with a friend. But now, instead of making excuses, I lean into connection. I allow myself to be vulnerable rather than withdrawing.
To support others facing similar struggles, I founded The Lonely (Less) Club—an online community addressing the loneliness epidemic among young people in the UK. This cause has become a passion of mine, and I’ve dedicated myself to raising awareness, sharing my experiences, and providing practical tools for others to navigate loneliness.
Through this community, I’ve learned just how crucial it is to embrace our “messy” emotions. It’s okay to show up imperfectly. While talking about loneliness still requires courage, sharing our struggles fosters connection—not just with others, but with ourselves.
Most importantly, I’ve discovered that the simple act of sharing is one of the most powerful antidotes to loneliness. A lonely feeling shared is, indeed, a lonely feeling halved.