Be Inconvenienced to Find Belonging in This New Season of Life

overcoming loneliness when your children leave the nest

Photo by Briana Tozour on Unsplash

I moved my youngest daughter into her freshman dorm a week ago. In the midst of the August heat, the clutter of boxes, and the weight of goodbye, I noticed a major bright spot.

As I carried containers from the hallway to her room, the resident advisor greeted each new student with the same warmth she’d shown my daughter. She pointed them toward the hall meeting later that day, told them where to find cold drinks, and promised the evening’s kickoff would be a lot of fun.

In the back of my mind, I knew the orientation schedule was already packed – part information, part social connection, a mix of advisors, activities, and club opportunities. But watching the RA, it struck me how easy the college was making it for these kids to find community.

To find their people.

Or even just one person.

Sometimes, one is all you need to feel a sense of belonging in a new place.

Over my lifetime, I’ve been uprooted seven times. The hardest move came when I had a toddler and a newborn. I’d left my parents behind in another state, along with a strong support system.

During what I would now call the loneliest period of my life, I ran a red light and was nearly hit by a truck. Shaken but alive, I went home and typed into the search bar: “Local mom’s group.” Something in me knew I would not survive this stretch on my own.

I still remember approaching the building for my first meeting. A woman with a cherubic face was entering with her small child. Catching my eye, and perhaps my pained expression, she stood and waited for me.

“Hi, I’m Courtney,” she said with a thick accent.

“I’m Rachel,” I replied, certain she would hear in my voice that I was not from around the area.

“Come, sit with me,” she offered.

That day, Courtney introduced me to her group of friends: Ollie, Jessica, Heather, and Leah. Those women, without question, saved my life that year.

Nineteen years and three moves later, I find myself remembering that fragile version of myself, worried I could slip into that state again.

The house feels eerily quiet now that my second-born daughter is gone. More than the silence, I miss the comfort of her presence. Avery’s very being is joyful and uplifting. Together, we laugh a lot. We talk about deep things. We understand each other. Losing her to college feels like losing my favorite coworker – the one whose cubicle was right next to mine. I still half expect to look over and see her there.

I’m keeping busy with work — guiding a group through Utah’s national parks this September and planning my November retreat in North Carolina — but in the quiet moments, I am reminded of that earlier season and the toll loneliness once took on my mental health.

Dr. Dean Ornish, founder of the Preventive Medicine Research Institute, has said this about loneliness:

“I am not aware of any other factor—not diet, not smoking, not exercise, not stress, not genetics, not drugs, not surgery—that has a greater impact on our incidence of illness and chance of premature death.”

Those words remind me that I am not powerless. And my older daughter, Natalie, has shown me this truth by example.

When the college she attended closed unexpectedly, and she chose to stop swimming competitively after fifteen years, Natalie had to start over. She turned to triathlon training near her new university. At first, she trained mostly on her own. But soon she realized she craved company.

Natalie began asking around at the bike shop. She hauled her bike to places where others gathered to ride. She introduced herself to swimmers in the next lane at the Y. Over time, she started organizing swim times for a small group, coordinating runs with friends, and doing group rides with people twice her age.

All of it so she could be in community.

My daughter lives by a powerful principle:

Inconvenience is the price of community.

In other words, being in the company of others requires effort, both large and small.

In college, building community comes easier. You show up and can count on everyone being around your age, in the same stage of life. Adulthood is different. The inconveniences feel bigger and often require you to initiate, like being the one who starts the monthly gathering or the one who consistently shows up until something lasting takes root.

But judging by the night-and-day difference community has made in my older daughter’s life this past year, those inconveniences are a small price to pay for something truly invaluable.

I have to admit, I have been deeply inspired watching Natalie create this incredible support system – one that not only benefits her, but also those on the receiving end of her hospitality, planning, and communication.

I thought of my daughter immediately when I came across this beautiful quote by an unknown author.

At first, I took it at face value. But when I found myself thinking about it constantly during this particularly hard week, I realized it was a message for my own inner child.

Yes, my home is filled with silence for the first time in twenty-two years, but the silence offers me a chance to finally hear where my heart’s calling me to go.

In her exquisite book Good Grief, poet Brianna Pastor writes:

“There are people waiting to meet you. People waiting to love you. There are places that stand still until you’ve stepped foot in them. Something really beautiful could happen for you in the morning. There is so much waiting for your arrival. Arrive there.”

I think back to my depressed thirty-three-year-old self – getting dressed, wrangling my baby and toddler, heading to that first mom’s group meeting. It was the most inconvenient thing I could’ve possibly done. But how grateful I am for that effort, which brought me to Courtney. There she stood, holding open the door, as if she’d been waiting for me to arrive.

Though my family only lived in that city for a single year, that group of women left a lasting imprint. Each of us was made stronger by the community we shared, coming together at a time when we all needed it in our own way.

Nineteen years later, I face a new kind of loneliness now that my children have flown.

But this time, I carry wisdom, tools, and experiences I did not have back then.

I still may be directionally challenged, but I am not afraid of getting lost anymore — my heart knows the way.

I wonder where I’ll go. Who I’ll meet.

If you’re searching too, perhaps our paths will cross.

I’ll look for you.

My hand in yours,
Rachel

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Join Me in Community:

🌳 If the topic of today’s essay resonated with you, I’d love to invite you to go deeper with me on Friday, August 29 at 12pm Eastern in our monthly Treehouse Live Teaching & Community Time. This month, we’ll identify practical steps we can take toward initiating the belonging we long for. If you’ve been feeling the loneliness of adulthood, empty nesting, shifting friendships, or life transitions, this gathering is for you. As always, the Zoom link will be sent to paid subscribers a few days before. Replay will be sent the day after. Please join us for what always proves to be an enlightening, encouraging, and restorative time together.

🏔️ If showing up can feel inconvenient, imagine what’s waiting on the other side. My final 2025 retreat, Only Love Today: A Restorative Retreat for Givers, is a brand-new offering — a first-ever chance to reconnect with yourself, be held by a like-hearted circle, and create a personal care plan for less stress, better boundaries, and lasting joy. In the serenity of the Blue Ridge Mountains, with nourishing meals and lasting friendships, you’ll discover that the effort is worth every bit. You are worthy.

“Rachel’s retreat changed my life. Even with my shyness and introversion, I felt loved and seen. I still carry that feeling with me and try to pass it on to others.”

“If you’re considering this retreat—PLEASE GO! Rachel’s teachings, kindness, and humor felt like a big hug all weekend. I arrived uncertain, but left transformed by the love, laughter, and real connection I found.”

“Rachel’s retreat in NC was magical and exactly what my soul needed. Yoga, meditation, nourishing food, nature walks, music, and connection—all in the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains.”