Experimental New Techniques for Self-Support when you are lonely

Loneliness is not a personal failure.

Most of us will experience it at some point in our lives. We can feel lonely after moving somewhere new, losing someone we love, changing jobs, becoming a caregiver, recovering from illness, ending a relationship, retiring, or simply realizing that the people around us have changed.

Sometimes we can even feel lonely while surrounded by other people.

The good news is that loneliness does not necessarily mean we need to find one perfect person to make it disappear. Sometimes, preventing loneliness begins with something much smaller:

Don’t give up on making friends.

Try approaching someone new once a week

When we feel lonely, meeting new people can seem like an enormous task. We may think we need to become outgoing, find a new community, make a best friend, or completely change our lives.

What if we made the experiment much smaller?

Once a week, try approaching someone you don’t normally talk to.

That could mean saying hello to someone at a class, asking a neighbor about their garden, complimenting someone’s artwork, joining a walking group, attending a community event, commenting thoughtfully on someone’s work, or simply sitting somewhere that gives you an opportunity to be around people.

The goal isn’t necessarily to make a friend.

The goal is to practice being open to friendship.

Social connection is associated with important aspects of health and well-being, and the U.S. Surgeon General has described social connection as an important contributor to individual and community health.

A weekly experiment gives us repeated opportunities to discover something new: Who are the people I enjoy being around? What kinds of conversations energize me? Where do I feel comfortable? What makes me curious about another person?

We are not trying to force intimacy.

We are creating opportunities for it.

We can fall in love with pieces of people

The word “love” can make friendship sound like a very large commitment.

But affection doesn’t always have to be all-or-nothing.

We might love someone’s sense of humor without becoming close friends.

We might admire someone’s patience.

We might enjoy the way another person talks about plants, music, mathematics, cooking, animals, or art.

We might appreciate a neighbor because they always notice when someone needs help.

We can even enjoy an object because it reminds us of someone we care about.

These small forms of affection can matter.

Instead of asking, “Who is going to become my best friend?” we can experiment with a gentler question:

“What do I appreciate about the people and world around me today?”

That question can give loneliness somewhere else to go.

Give something away

Another experiment is to become useful.

Not because we need to earn love—but because caring for something outside ourselves can interrupt the closed loop that sometimes develops when loneliness makes us withdraw.

Water someone’s plants.

Bring food to a neighbor.

Teach someone how to crochet.

Help someone carry something.

Share a book.

Volunteer.

Make something beautiful and give it away.

Take care of an animal.

Write a note to someone who helped you years ago.

There is a difference between needing people to validate us and allowing ourselves to participate in other people’s lives.

The second can be surprisingly nourishing.

What about hugs?

Physical affection is another interesting area for experimentation—but consent matters more than chemistry.

We shouldn’t hug everyone simply because we have heard that hugging might increase oxytocin.

Instead, we can notice which kinds of touch feel safe and welcome.

Ask.

“Would you like a hug?”

And be equally comfortable hearing “no.”

Research into oxytocin and human social interaction is fascinating, but it is not as simple as “hug someone → oxytocin → happiness.” A 2024 systematic review and meta-analysis found considerable inconsistency in the research connecting social interaction with measurable oxytocin changes.

More recent research continues to investigate how pleasant touch, self-touch, closeness, and social interaction may influence oxytocin and well-being.

So perhaps the better experiment is not:

“How can I increase my oxytocin?”

It is:

“What kinds of safe, consensual connection help my body feel more at home in the world?”

That might be a hug.

It might also be holding hands, sitting beside someone, petting a companion animal, receiving a massage, dancing, gardening, making art with someone, or simply sharing a meal.

And sometimes the most appropriate form of touch is no touch at all, but perhaps a gentle smile or words of encouragement.

When loneliness lives in the body

This leads to another important question:

When might we explore physical approaches instead of—or alongside—talk therapy?

There isn’t one universal answer.

Verbal therapy can be particularly useful when we need help understanding thoughts, emotions, relationships, grief, trauma, patterns of behavior, or the meaning we are assigning to our experiences.

Physical therapy can be useful when physical limitations, pain, weakness, balance problems, mobility changes, or fear of movement are keeping us from participating in life.

And sometimes these things overlap.

Someone who is lonely because chronic pain has made it difficult to leave the house may not need only a conversation about loneliness. They may also need help rebuilding physical confidence and finding ways to move safely.

Someone who has stopped participating in activities because of anxiety may benefit from psychotherapy while gradually experimenting with movement, exercise, community activities, or other forms of embodied self-care.

For chronic pain, research supports a variety of nonpharmacological approaches, with benefits depending on the particular condition and intervention. Exercise, rehabilitation, psychological approaches, and some complementary practices may all have roles.

The question isn’t necessarily:

“Should I choose physical therapy or verbal therapy?”

It may be:

“What part of my life needs support right now?”

And what about things we ingest?

This is where our experiments need an extra layer of caution.

Food, medications, supplements, herbs, and other ingestible products affect the body differently from activities such as walking, talking, creating art, or spending time with another person.

“Natural” does not automatically mean safe.

And something being sold as a treatment does not necessarily mean it has been demonstrated to work.

What about homeopathy?

Homeopathy is sometimes suggested when people are looking for a very individualized or “gentle” approach.

It is worth knowing what the research actually says.

The National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health reports that there is little evidence supporting homeopathy as an effective treatment for any specific health condition. It also notes that some products labeled homeopathic can contain substantial amounts of active ingredients and may cause side effects or interact with medications.

That doesn’t mean we have to stop being curious.

It means curiosity should include questions such as:

What exactly is this product?
What evidence shows that it works?
What are the possible risks?
Could it interact with something else I take?
What would I use instead if it doesn’t help?
Am I delaying a treatment that has better evidence?
Can I discuss it with a qualified healthcare professional?

An experiment should have an exit strategy.

That’s an important principle for self-support.

Experimenting without abandoning what works

Being experimental does not mean rejecting conventional medicine.

It can mean becoming more thoughtful about the many tools available to us.

Maybe our experiment is physical therapy.

Maybe it is psychotherapy.

Maybe it is joining a choir.

Maybe it is learning to paint.

Maybe it is volunteering at an animal shelter.

Maybe it is walking around the neighborhood once a week and saying hello to someone new.

Maybe it is trying tai chi, mindfulness, massage, or another complementary practice that has evidence for the particular problem we are trying to address.

Some complementary approaches have evidence for particular pain conditions, but the strength of evidence varies considerably.

The important thing is to match the experiment to the problem.

If our knees hurt, we might need movement support.

If grief is overwhelming us, we might need emotional support.

If medication is causing a problem, we need medical guidance rather than simply adding another supplement.

If we are isolated, we might need opportunities for connection.

If we don’t know what we need, we might begin with a conversation with a healthcare professional.

Make loneliness an invitation to experiment

Perhaps loneliness is sometimes telling us something useful.

Not necessarily that there is something wrong with us.

Perhaps it is telling us that our current pattern of connection no longer fits the person we are becoming.

The solution may not be to fill every empty space.

Some empty spaces are important.

Instead, we can periodically ask:

Who am I curious about?

What do I want to learn?

What kind of care does my body need?

What kind of care does my mind need?

What can I offer someone else?

What kind of connection feels safe and nourishing?

And then we can try one small thing.

Not every experiment will work.

That’s okay.

We are learning.

We are practicing adaptation.

We are giving ourselves repeated opportunities to discover new forms of friendship, affection, creativity, movement, purpose, and belonging.

Loneliness may visit us again.

But we don’t have to stop opening the door to the possibility of connection.

Experimental new techniques for self-support when you are lonely