The real reason so many people feel alone in a relationship.
When I met my husband, he was still in a relationship—a red flag, yes, but one I understood too well. We were both running from the same thing. Not heartbreak, but the kind of loneliness no one talks about: the silent weight we carry into relationships.
Before You Love Someone Else, Know Who You Are Alone
For years, I’d filled my time with stunts, adrenaline, and distractions. I jumped off of rooftops, took punches in fight scenes, and drove in high-speed car chases. Always chasing the next rush.
He filled his with casual acquaintances and old habits. Neither of us knew how to sit still.
And then, after a few casual hangouts and an almost-kiss, he told me he was seeing someone long-distance. He spoke with honesty, gentleness, and a hint of remorse.
He hoped to stay friends, but the difference was that I had done the work before I met him; I could say no to a relationship and still feel whole in my own company. I wasn’t sure he was able to do the same.
So I encouraged him to focus on what he already had and that reaching out to me, though flattering, was not a good sign. He insisted, and I gave him the gift an ex-partner once gave me: space.
“If you’re serious, you need to take time for yourself. Figure out who you are outside of a relationship. I’ll be here, if and when you’re ready.”
I could say no to a relationship and still feel whole in my own company. I wasn’t sure he was able to do the same.
That pause changed everything.
Something shifted. He stopped filling the quiet with other people’s needs and started listening to his own. He asked the hard questions: “What do I value in a teammate?” “Who am I when I’m not trying to be anyone else’s companion?”
When he could answer that, he came back to me—not as a soul looking to be rescued, but as one ready to choose. And I chose him back.
But healing isn’t neat. Often, the ghosts of the past come knocking.
The Relationships We Use to Avoid Ourselves
His exes saw the shift. They barely recognized the man who now moved with clarity and limits. The man who no longer sought companionship just to avoid being alone.
They fixated on that version of him (particularly his last ex, who seemed to believe his transformation was something she was entitled to). She sent messages that escalated with each holiday—Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s—as if our marriage was just a temporary obstacle. She acted like I was a placeholder for the reunion she’d written in her head.
The truth was, she wasn’t trying to win him back. She was confronting her own hollow that she’d been avoiding. And she didn’t know how to sit with it.
Why So Many of Us Are Feeling Alone in a Relationship
A dear friend once told me, “Loneliness only comes from not knowing yourself and what your needs and wants are.”
That stayed with me. Because often, what we think is heartbreak is really just the past bouncing off our present. Our triggers dressing up as instincts.
When we don’t take time to understand who we are, we confuse comfort with connection. We chase people who mirror our wounds instead of our growth.
But when you do the work, when you sit with yourself long enough to know what you truly need, those old echoes stop bouncing. You don’t flinch when silence arrives. You welcome it. You know you’re good with who you are.
What a Good Relationship Isn’t: Avoiding Your Own Company
I know what it’s like to think love is the antidote to emptiness. To mistake passion for neediness or to agree to attachments that feel safe, not right.
It takes years—sometimes decades—to realize we’ve built our lives around avoiding being our own company. There’s nothing more isolating than being with a person who’s using you as a buffer from their own reflection—or someone who, like I once was, simply isn’t ready to settle down.
When I was chasing the flame (literally, doing high-octane stunts and doubling A-list actresses and models like Cara Delevingne), I sought approval and validation. But when I took space for myself, I got to understand the full shape of solitude.
There’s nothing more isolating than being with a person who’s using you as a buffer from their own reflection...
By leaning into and fully appreciating my own solitude, I learned to recognize other people’s intentions—and to walk away from those who didn’t inspire me to be myself.
That’s why I encouraged my now-husband to take a pause and get to know himself before getting to know me.
When we met, I refused to be a rebound or a rescue. I wanted to be chosen—with eyes wide open—by someone who had faced their own silence and survived it.
Because when you’ve been truly alone and made peace with it, love becomes something else entirely. It’s not a fix. It’s a partnership.
Two Can Be Better Than One—But One Isn’t a Problem
When we finally got together, it wasn’t because he craved company or because I longed to be rescued. It was because we each knew who we were standing on our own and were curious about who we could become together.
Yes, we got married quickly, in mere months. Some people thought we rushed. But we talked about goals, values, kids, finances, fears. We didn’t avoid the hard stuff. We dug into it. (And not every couple does that, even after a decade.)
Still, the ripples came. Even though he had released what once defined him, his past struggled to let go. These women weren’t villains. They were just stuck in the same pattern he had finally stepped out of. They saw his glow-up and mistook it for a doorway back in.
And for a while, that hurt.
It made me question things—our pace, our bond, even myself. But what I realized is this:
When a person grows, they don’t owe that growth to the people who knew them before. And they don’t have to apologize for evolving with a new partner.
Don’t Trade Your Solitude for Just Anyone
I don’t pretend we’re perfect. But we’re honest. And more than anything, we’re rooted in something rare: two people who sat in their own silence long enough to know they didn’t want to fill it with just anyone.
It takes courage to risk losing a relationship to find yourself. To wait for the right person—not out of desperation, but out of respect.
In the end, love isn’t about who stays. It’s about why they stay. And we stay because we choose each other—clearly, consciously. Not to escape ourselves, but because we know who we are.
Janine Canillas
Janine Canillas is a former stunt performer turned writer whose work spans TV, video games, poetry, journalism, and children’s literature. Her writing has appeared in The Guardian and The Los Angeles Times, and she is the author of the children’s book Lenny Peed on That! When she’s not writing, she’s playing paddle tennis and checking things off her adventure list at chickenandcat.com
Next Steps:
Get up close and personal with yourself. Do you know who you really are? Explore these books on self-awareness to help you know you—before you get to know someone else.
Ponder your fate. Even if that means being alone for now. Learn how to find acceptance alone.
Learn to live with yourself first. Read why every woman should live alone—at least once.
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Because life is worth enjoying, whether you're in a relationship or not.
