Why we Misunderstand Loneliness

This opinion piece was first published in the NZ Herald 11/10/26.

Jacqui Maguire is a clinical psychologist, writer, speaker and media contributor, with a passion for workplace wellbeing.

It is entirely possible to have a life full of people and still feel lonely.

We move from meetings to messages, school pick-ups to social media, group chats to dinner tables. We are more connected technologically than at any point in history, yet loneliness remains a persistent feature of many people’s lives.

Part of the problem is that we have misunderstood loneliness.

We tend to think of it as a numbers issue: not enough people, not enough socialising, too much time alone. If loneliness is the problem, then the solution must be more contact.

But loneliness is not simply the absence of company. It is the absence of belonging.

Most of us know this instinctively.

Seeking belonging

We communicate constantly: exchanging information, coordinating schedules, solving problems and responding to notifications. Yet much of this contact is functional. We can know what people are doing without necessarily knowing how they are. We can hear the updates without understanding their experience of them.

Human beings have always depended on one another. Across most of our evolutionary history, belonging to a group was not simply desirable; it was essential. Our survival depended on relationships. Although the world has changed dramatically, our psychology has not changed nearly as much. We remain deeply attuned to whether we belong, and whether we matter to those around us.

Seen through this lens, loneliness is not a weakness or a personal failing. It is a signal. Like hunger or thirst, it draws our attention towards something important that may be missing.

The discomfort of loneliness tells us that a fundamental human need is not being adequately met.

What we are seeking, however, is not simply company.

It is belonging.

Beyond connection

Belonging is more than inclusion. It is more than having people around us or somewhere to go. It is the experience of being known, accepted and valued for who we are, with a sense that our presence matters.

Perhaps that is what many of us are really longing for when we talk about connection. Not necessarily more time with people, but more presence within the time we already share.

Being physically present is not the same as being psychologically present. We can sit beside someone while our attention is occupied by our phones, our worries or our to-do lists. Equally, a relatively brief interaction can leave us feeling deeply connected when it contains genuine curiosity, attention and care.

But there is another part of belonging that receives far less attention, and it may be one of the most important pieces of the loneliness puzzle.

Human beings do not only need to feel cared for. We need to feel that we matter.

We need to know that our presence makes a difference in the lives of other people.

Connection through contribution

We often assume that what lonely people need is someone to call, someone to listen or someone to support them. But human beings derive meaning not only from receiving care, but from giving it. We need opportunities to contribute, support, help and encourage. We need to feel that our presence changes something.

We see this in the people who become woven into the fabric of our families, neighbourhoods and communities. They check in. They organise the gathering. They help a neighbour, support a friend or notice when someone is struggling. Their connection comes not only from having people around them, but from participating in the lives of others.

We are nourished by being cared for, but we are also nourished by caring.

This may be why loneliness can persist even in lives that appear socially full. We do not simply need people around us. We need meaningful opportunities to participate in one another’s lives.

If that is true, then perhaps we need to think differently about how we respond to loneliness.

Small moments matter

The solution is not simply filling calendars or increasing social interaction.

What we need are relationships and communities where people can know and be known, care and be cared for, contribute and be valued.

The encouraging part is that belonging rarely requires dramatic action. More often, it is built through small moments repeated over time. A friend putting down their phone and paying attention. A neighbour stopping for a conversation. Someone noticing we have gone quiet. A family member remembering to ask how that important thing went.

Individually, these moments can seem insignificant. Collectively, they tell us something fundamental:

I see you. You matter. There is a place for you here.

And they are moments we can create for other people.

Perhaps, then, there are two questions worth asking when we think about connection in our own lives:

1. Where do I feel genuinely known and valued?
2. And who, because of the way I show up, knows that they matter?