How to Be a Friend to Someone Who's Lonely

How might you show up for a friend without trying to rescue them?

Aug 06, 2025

My articles in August will keep a focus on supporting and helping friends who might be lonely, in acknowledgment of Loneliness Awareness Week, 4 - 8 August 2025.

I absolutely have the rescue gene. If I see someone struggling, or simply who needs some help, I’m the first one to raise my hand, to send ‘check in’ messages regularly, and invite them for a coffee. If tools are required, then I’m armed and ready with my electric screw gun. Need a curtain rail fixed? I’m the handyman at your service.

I’ve done the ‘love language’ test, and Acts of Service came out top of the list. Conversely, however, I’m generally the last one to ask for help; it almost needs to be forced on me. I’m a one-man band, whose default is to work it out for myself:

“I’ve always been self-sufficient and happy to tackle challenges alone, which persists to a degree despite much personal growth and reflection. When I moved house last year, I managed the whole thing myself, and more than one friend asked why I hadn’t reached out for help. But it's a challenging trait to break when you have a lifetime of going it alone.”

My experience is that many people like me have been shaped through a multitude of life’s pressures. Looking around my friendship circle, I see marriage and relationship breakups that are particularly vicious and stressful. I see exes - invariably men - who seem to take revenge through pettiness and gaslighting, often betraying their own narcissism to the world through their actions. The person on the receiving end becomes isolated and unsure, which, sadly, is likely the deliberate intent of the giver.

The Rescue Gene: When Helping Becomes Overwhelming

There's a certain helplessness that creeps into my soul when someone I care about is struggling with loneliness. I may notice the subtle withdrawal, or perhaps they mention that things feel empty, or they hint at the mental anguish.

My urge to help can quickly turn into a scramble for solutions, a flurry of pep talks, dinner invitations, or advice. The latter is fraught. You can offer advice, but even when the correct course of action is clear to someone crushed under the weight of a gaslighting ex or an incompetent and abusive work leader, the advice often falls on deaf ears. The recipient cannot process, or sometimes even acknowledge, what deep down they will know is true.

Loneliness Isn't a Flaw to Fix

Here's what I have realised: loneliness isn't a problem to fix, and honest friendship rarely follows a checklist. My breakthrough is to realise loneliness is not a flaw. It's part of being human. It is inevitable, pervasive, and all of us will do battle at some stage. What counts is learning how to be a companion to someone wrestling with it. The meaningful support we can offer is to show up and stay present. I wrote about this in a March article, “The Power of Being Present: The Simple Habit That Can Change Your Life”:

“Being present isn't about achieving some perfect state of Zen; it's about making small, conscious choices to engage fully with life. Whether it's putting your phone down during conversations, taking a deep breath before a stressful meeting, or simply appreciating the moment you're in, presence is a habit that can enrich every aspect of your life.”

For many, loneliness comes with a sense of invisibility; there’s a voice in your head that says, "I shouldn't feel like this". But loneliness doesn't discriminate. It reaches people of all genders, sexualities, abilities, and backgrounds. Many experience it after a breakup or moving to a new city. Others at family gatherings, in their offices, or while scrolling through social media festooned with images of happy people living full lives, although we know all too often this is an illusion. For LGBTQIA+ people who might feel disconnected from family or traditional communities, loneliness can carry additional weight. For people with disabilities, it might intersect with accessibility barriers or social assumptions that leave them feeling unseen.

The key is understanding that everyone's experience of connection looks different. When someone we care about is drowning in loneliness, our instinct might be to throw them a lifebelt. But supporting a lonely friend requires more finesse than that. It's about understanding the difference between being alone and being lonely, recognising that everyone's social needs vary dramatically, and learning to offer support without accidentally making them feel like a charity case.

The art of supporting a lonely friend isn't about having all the answers or being their social saviour. It's about showing up with genuine care, understanding their unique situation, and offering the kind of steady, authentic presence that reminds them they matter. Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do for someone who feels invisible is to say, “I see you. I hear you.”

If you've ever felt awkward or unsure around a lonely friend, you're not alone. Modern life is full of contradictions: we're hyper-connected, yet a genuine, safe connection can feel out of reach for anyone. These feelings aren't a sign of weakness. They're an everyday part of the human experience, shaped by culture, history, and circumstance.

Loneliness isn't just about being physically alone; it's also not something that only affects "antisocial" people. MIT professor Sherry Turkle, whose research I’ve become super interested in, says, "Loneliness is failed solitude." I find that a powerful sentiment, as this distinction between solitude and loneliness has been popping up for me a great deal recently. It highlights that loneliness is about the quality of our connections, not the quantity.

You can be surrounded by people at a party and feel profoundly alone, or spend a weekend by yourself and feel perfectly content. Loneliness occurs when there's a mismatch between the social connections we have and the connections we crave.

Understanding Different Experiences of Connection

Susan Cain, who explores introversion in her book "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking," reminds us that social needs vary dramatically between people:

"Many people believe that introversion is about being antisocial, and that's really a misperception. Because actually, it's just that introverts are differently social. So they would prefer to have a glass of wine with a close friend as opposed to going to a loud party full of strangers."

You need to be cautious not to misinterpret the signs from a friend. Inviting someone to a party or a night out might not be what your friend needs. It could be a listening ear over a coffee, not an outing surrounded by hustle and bustle.

For many people in the LGBTQIA+ community, loneliness can be particularly complex. I’m very conscious that when your family or traditional social circles don't fully embrace your identity, the stakes of friendship become even higher.

It’s the same, I believe, for people with disabilities. Physical accessibility, communication needs, or energy limitations affect their ability to maintain traditional social patterns, similarly, for people with neurodiversities. They might be super comfortable one-on-one, but struggle with crowded spaces. The stimuli might be overwhelming and unwelcome. Just because there are no visible signs doesn’t mean they aren’t struggling with socialising, and instead find themselves isolated.

These hidden stresses are the driver for the Hidden Disabilities Sunflower. It is a simple tool for someone to share voluntarily that they have a hidden disability. Simply by wearing the Sunflower, they’re just letting everyone know that you might need extra help, understanding, or just more time.

Loneliness can be sneaky by nature. It might show up as someone who's always available to help others but never asks for help themselves, or as the person who's suddenly become obsessed with work or hobbies to the exclusion of everything else.

This is where I have to suppress my ‘fix it’ gene. Overwhelming someone with advice, activity, or endless messages is not the answer. My intervention may be well-meaning, but for someone living with depression, anxiety, or neurodiversity, my suggestions may feel overwhelming or tone-deaf. The same goes for people from marginalised backgrounds, those who already feel misunderstood or invisible, and ‘do-gooders’ are seldom welcome in those environments.

Asking Instead of Assuming: How to Show Up Authentically

I am learning to set aside judgment and pre-conceived solutions, and instead cultivate curiosity and a deep respect for the other person’s needs and wants. Maybe they do open up about what is happening in their life. But it’s not my place to reframe or fix their emotions. Silent acceptance is usually the best gift one can give. Again, “I hear you. I see you”. These are not character flaws. It’s a human experience that deserves respect and understanding. Sit with their emotions, maybe this makes you uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.

My younger, more arrogant self would tend towards ‘knowing’ what someone needs. Today, I try to ask what would be helpful rather than assuming. I don't take their moods personally. If a lonely friend seems irritable, withdrawn, or less enthusiastic than usual, it's probably not about me. Loneliness can be exhausting, and people experiencing it might have less energy for the social niceties that usually smooth our interactions.

I support my friends without any expectation of reciprocation. I do it because I genuinely care about them, not to make me feel like a good person. If someone is deep in loneliness, they might not have the emotional resources to express appreciation in ways we expect or recognise.

Offering help is essential, but so is stepping back if they're not ready to talk. Remember, consent and respect for boundaries matter in every friendship, whether you're supporting a straight mate, a queer friend, or someone whose life looks nothing like your own.

So, how do we show up without making things awkward? The first step is to ask, not assume. If it feels right, you might say, "I've noticed you seem a bit down lately. Want to talk about it, or would you prefer a bit of company?" You are signalling care without pressure. For some, the best medicine is a shared coffee in comfortable silence; for others, it's sending a meme or a text that says, "Thinking of you." These gestures may seem small, but they build trust over time.

I’ve also learnt not to place the burden on the other person with open-ended questions that require their response; instead, be specific, “I’m shopping this afternoon, can I grab something for you?”. Or, “I’m free on Sunday, how about I come over and help with that project you mentioned?”.

If your friend has a mobility issue or navigates the world as a neurodivergent person, ask what makes them feel comfortable. A casual check-in might be more welcome than a party invitation. Respecting pronouns, dietary needs, or communication preferences isn't just about being polite. It's about recognising your friend’s needs and boundaries authentically.

I tend to go at 100 miles an hour, so I must respect that others do not. Some people bounce back from difficult periods quickly; others need more time. The message that you're still thinking of them matters.

Shared activities like watching a film, cooking, or going for a walk can offer companionship without putting the spotlight on "fixing" anything. I’ve had a friend who just wanted to come over, eat dinner, sit on the couch and watch TV quietly. This is what made a difference for them.

It’s great to share vulnerability, so it’s fine to share your own experiences, but don’t be tempted to make the conversation about you.

I’ve written previously about the art of listening; it seems to be an underrated talent these days. Being a friend always starts with listening. If someone exclaims how they’ve had a tough week, you must resist the temptation to jump in with solutions or compare it to yours. This is a talent I have had to learn, and even today, I listen to myself consciously because, without a doubt, I've often heard someone say something, and immediately responded with an experience of mine that I feel is similar.

Now I shut up and endeavour to sit with my friend in that moment, perhaps carefully ask a clarifying question, “How are you feeling about all that?” And even harder for me, I have to keep shutting up while I wait for the answer. Maybe when it’s suitable, I might share my own experiences with loneliness or social anxiety, but we need always to remember it’s not about us. I need to be aware that people have different communication styles, so I must be patient with those who process information differently and give them time to formulate their thoughts.

The Art of Gentle, Consistent Presence

Don't underestimate the power of small gestures. This is not about grand gestures or constant entertainment. The most powerful tool in your friendship toolkit is often the simplest one: gentle, consistent presence. Dropping them a text on occasion means more than you realise. Simple acts of connection can provide comfort and remind your friend they're not forgotten. This isn't about being perfect; it's about being present through the messy, uncomfortable, and uncertain times.

Bell Hooks, the American author and social activist who wrote extensively about love and community, understood this deeply. In her 2000 book "All About Love: New Visions," she wrote:

"Loving friendships provide us with a space to experience the joy of community in a relationship where we learn to process all our issues, to cope with differences and conflict while staying connected."

Loneliness is a thread that runs through every life, and friendship isn't about tying it off neatly. It's about sharing the weight, sometimes quietly, sometimes clumsily. If you find yourself wondering how to help a lonely friend, start with presence. Ask what they want, listen to what's said and what's unsaid, and let yourself be guided by care rather than certainty.

The key to gentle presence is consistency without pressure. You're not trying to fix or change your friend; you're simply committed to being a steady, caring presence in their life while they navigate whatever they're going through.

Supporting a lonely friend isn't a sprint; it's more like a gentle amble that you can maintain over time. The goal isn't to cure their loneliness in a weekend but to be a consistent, caring presence while they navigate their own path back to connection. Friendship isn't a task you tick off; it's an ongoing practice. There will be awkward silences, mismatched expectations, and moments of uncertainty. That's normal. You might worry you're not doing enough, or that you'll say the wrong thing. The point isn't to be a flawless friend, but a real one. Your steady friendship might be the foundation that helps them build confidence in other relationships.

Bell Hooks reminds us:

"However, friendship is the place where the great majority of us have our first glimpse of redemptive love and caring community. Learning to love in friendships empowers us in ways that enable us to bring this love to other interactions with family or with romantic bonds."

It's also worth remembering your limits. If you're supporting someone through a long patch of loneliness, check in with yourself. Can you offer what's needed, or do you need support too? Diverse, resilient friendships require care in both directions, and it's healthy to acknowledge when you need a break or extra help.

The lonely person in your life doesn't need you to be their social coordinator, their therapist, or their constant entertainment. They need someone who understands that loneliness isn't a problem to be solved but a human experience to be witnessed and shared.

In a world that often treats loneliness as something shameful or weak, being the friend who sits comfortably with someone's pain, who doesn't rush to fill silence with chatter, and who shows up consistently without fanfare, is a radical act of love. It's the kind of friendship that changes people, not because it fixes them, but because it reminds them they're worth caring about exactly as they are.

How might you show up for a friend without trying to rescue them? Sometimes, the best thing you can do is simply be there, acknowledging that loneliness is neither rare nor shameful. In a world hungry for real connection, your imperfect presence may be more powerful than you realise. Your lonely friend will have someone who cares enough to wonder how to help. That caring itself is already the beginning of the answer.

Running during the first week of August each year, Australia's Loneliness Awareness Week is organised by Ending Loneliness Together. This annual August campaign isn't just about addressing isolation; it's also about promoting community.

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