How I Went From Feeling Lonely To Feeling A Sense of Community in NYC

A personal blueprint for navigating connections, setting boundaries, and embracing solitude in the city

A new city, new beginnings, and new challenges

Six grueling hours later, flying cross-country from California, I frantically rolled around with two suitcases and one missing wheel, my stomach growling for a warm meal — alas, I arrived. Snow fell from the night sky as the freezing wind pushed past me, opening the door to a fresh start and ushering me through the streets of New York City. As I imagined the incoming warmth of a community of past friends living in the same city as me and the prospect of new relationships, the cold and fear within my body subsided. Little did I know that finding community in New York City would be as brutal as its winters, but I’d later spring a new definition of it that would instead honor my boundaries and nurture my well-being.

On weekends in the city, lights never seemed to dim; friendly strangers were at every corner and cheered every round of drinks. I was on a social rollercoaster that only seemed to climb higher and higher as my eyelids lowered and lowered from sleepiness. Thinking weekends like this were part of adjusting to the city, I pushed myself to stay awake and ride the thrilling loop of parties, birthdays, and outings with people I barely knew.

Feeling lonely from superficial and disingenuous relationships

In settling in, I navigated through a sea of social opportunities, only to discover they were whirlpools of surface-level interactions. Each attempt to create new relationships cyclically pulled me back, leaving me exhausted and disoriented, yet no closer to a genuine connection. At a going-away party, my effort to reconnect with a “friend” highlighted this stark reality. I didn’t expect a deep conversation, but I had at least hoped for a genuine one that matched my intentions. As I shared updates about my life, his attention drifted. He nodded mechanically. He responded robotically. However, his enthusiasm surged when the conversation shifted to his recent trip. And he made an excuse to leave when I had nothing else to offer him, not even my curiosity. I felt invisible, as if nothing about me was worth the slightest attention. Does this awkward encounter sound familiar to you? This was representative of many similar interactions I had in New York, leaving me to question where I stood in my relationships. Did my presence mean anything, or was I only invited out so the host could hit the bar tab? Was I a means to an end?

Feeling disconnected from existing friendships

As the gaps between get-togethers with friends widened, I became more disconnected from them. I felt more emotionally and physically isolated with each passing day and superficial interaction. What once felt like a sanctuary was more like a deserted island the more I spent time alone at home. Instead of nurturing my existing relationships, I would distract myself from my feelings of loneliness by doom scrolling on Instagram — destroying my sense of self-worth as I compared myself to others. When I saw Instagram stories of people out at bars, restaurants, and other grand experiences in large groups, I assumed something was wrong with me because my social life wasn’t as vibrant. I also thought they were close to each other. What I felt I lacked was magnified when I would step outside and hear laughter and chatter as I passed by my local park in an attempt to escape the vicious cycle of comparison.

Believing something was “wrong” with me

Retreating to my apartment, deep in uncomfortable silence, and longing for what others had based on Instagram stories, I attacked myself with an explosion of questions. With millions of people in New York, why can’t I find a group of friends and feel like I belong? Is there something wrong with me? Why can’t I have what “everyone else” has? The once exciting rollercoaster ride of a new city became a rollercoaster of emotions; I was stuck on an endless track of self-doubt.

A pivotal conversation with a friend that shaped my definition of community

To find comfort, I reached out to a friend in the city who reignited my hope in discovering my sense of community by sharing how she did for herself. Hearing her say, “You aren’t alone," was reassuring when I shared how alone I felt. When she said, “I’ve felt the same way, and nothing is wrong with you,” I felt lighter and relieved. The weight of my shame gradually lifted. Like me, my friend had struggled with the contrast between her reality and the exciting social lives everyone else seemed to have. She didn’t entirely integrate into her established friends’ social circles — validating that people can be cliquey.

Almost moving back to LA, my friend kept putting herself out there and eventually found her community within a year of moving to New York. Her statement, “Community is not a one-size-fits-all; it looks different for everyone. I have a variety of friends I can reach out to, but it’s not the same tight-knit group of friends.” If my friend could find community and grow from quality friendships rather than quantity, I could. If she could withstand the social pressures of New York City, a place that makes you question your values even if you already know you value deeper relationships, I could. Your friends don’t need to be like the friends in “Friends” or the ones you see on social media.

My friend also encouraged me to give myself grace since it had only been eight months of living in a new city and adjusting to a new and demanding job. I had been succumbing to this unrealistic pressure to achieve “community” in the way that I saw on social media without considering my unique obstacles.

Reflecting on why I felt unhappy about my social life

Unshackled from guilt about my social life, I freed up mental space to reflect on my community-building efforts. Like my friend, was I proactive in nurturing my relationships? No. I wasn’t putting in enough effort to rekindle new and old friendships because I had been too busy comparing myself to others. I wasn’t coordinating with friends to catch up over dinner or other activities. Like my friend, did I have genuine friends I could contact in the city? I did, even if I didn’t have a massive social circle like it seemed like others had. I had what was most important to me — friends I could count on, be honest with, and be unequivocally myself. I had a constellation of friends that made my life shine bright; my problem was that I had been looking down at the ground rather than the sky.

Rediscovering what it meant to focus on myself rather than what others think

Shortly after a sudden layoff, I celebrated my job offer by booking an international solo adventure, where I rediscovered the process of focusing on myself rather than others. I felt rejuvenated by roaming through ancient castles, rowing under the tangerine sky in Madrid, and chatting with locals about their childhoods in Portugal. I paused to admire each street cat’s cuteness in Morocco, even if others thought it was overboard. What can I say? I am unapologetically a crazy cat lady. I ate dinner in solitude, even if others might have thought it was strange that I was toasting a glass of wine to myself. My hard-earned vacation was worth more than anyone else’s two cents about my life. I noticed how much happier I was doing whatever I felt in the moment, which contrasted with my previous life in New York when I worried about how others judged me for my empty social calendar.

Bringing back a priceless souvenir, I returned to New York with a renewed appreciation for my unique definition of community, the self-determination to focus on what I wanted rather than what others thought, and the realization that my free time is a canvas for my fulfillment. I can paint it with experiences that add color to my life, such as writing this article solo in a coffee shop on a Sunday or enjoying board games with friends on a Friday. So what if a New Yorker I once met labeled board games as "boring" or "lame" because they're not a “real” Friday night out event? These moments are masterpieces to me, free from the societal pressures and FOMO from Instagram stories.

The importance of setting social boundaries, even in good company and if you’re extroverted

After my vacation, I reconnected with a close friend at a board game night, an activity that aligned with my interests. Despite the enjoyable company of ten, I was losing myself to exhaustion — knees weak, arms heavy (thankfully, no sweaty palms) — even just half an hour into the night. I, thankfully, napped on my friend’s couch in the middle of the night instead of pushing through like I would in the past.

Awakening in a state of confusion after my nap, I turned to chatGPT. How could I, an extrovert who enjoys meeting new people in small groups, get this tired so fast? I discovered that even with meeting four or more people at once, the mental gymnastics of interpreting gestures, deciphering social cues, and crafting responses — especially multiplied across several people — sucks the life out of me like a black hole. No wonder why I would feel drained in the past in large gatherings! I also learned the importance of setting boundaries for myself in any social situation. That means imposing time limits on how long I stay at get-togethers. Even extroverts like me need their alone time and have nuances in their social battery levels; I’m not a 24/7 energizer bunny. Not only is it important to do activities that align with your interests, but it’s equally important to listen to what your body is trying to tell you, honor your well-being, and be strategic about how you conserve your energy.

The power of saying “no” and having no set weekend plans

A few weeks later, I had a weekend with no plans and an invitation to an acquaintance’s birthday party. The version of me from the past might have eagerly accepted to fill the social void. But this time, I had a deeper understanding of my preferences and a desire to reserve my energy for closer friendships. Why go to a party when you know you’ll be miserable? I was much more energized from playing video games that Friday night than I ever was at similar parties.

I’m also thankful that my weekend was free because that opened the door to a spontaneous coffee meeting with a friend, who got teary-eyed when she expressed how grateful she was for our friendship. That all started with a simple text saying, “How have you been?,” in which she responded by asking if I could spend time with her. An open calendar gives you more time for yourself and makes room for meaningful connections. Don’t have plans? See it as a cue to connect with an old friend you’ve missed. Set a time, place, and activity because we all know that saying, “Let’s hang sometime,” often ends with no plans. If you overthink at this stage, remember that taking the initiative makes you more likely to create or strengthen your bonds than sulking in your room. If your friend is unavailable, propose an alternative date or ask them what works best.

The power of setting time limits in social settings

Recently, at a close friend's birthday party, I prioritized my social boundaries by setting a rough time limit for myself for several hours. I left the party early and didn’t feel guilty because I was present for the time I was there. If I had stayed longer, there would have been diminishing returns because I was sleepy. What’s the point of overextending yourself when that takes away from the joy? Selectively saying “yes” or “no” to social engagements shows that you can build a balanced social life without sacrificing personal comfort as long as we honor and confidently articulate our boundaries.

Feeling more at home with myself

It's been nearly half a year since I last complained about having a less-than-ideal social life, and I’ve never felt more at home with myself than ever. My sense of self-worth does not come from a bustling social calendar. I've embraced the quiet moments, times when writing, gaming, binge-watching a Netflix show, playing basketball, or cooking new recipes. Not having weekend plans doesn't equate to failure; it signifies a choice to prioritize my desires.

I've learned to protect my energy by choosing social engagements more thoughtfully and attending gatherings that genuinely interest me rather than out of obligation. On days when I find myself without plans, I seize the opportunity to connect with friends because it energizes me. Valuing my free time has taught me to invest in relationships and activities that build upon my happiness rather than take away from it, like when I used to exhaust myself from socializing in surface-level settings.

What gives you energy and a sense of community is unique to you

If you ever feel lonely, know that anyone, even in one of the largest cities in the world, can feel the same way. You are not alone. Irrespective of how others might judge you, what matters most is how you fill your time — prioritizing and being proactive about activities and relationships that uniquely replenish your energy. And don’t forget to treat yourself with kindness. Everyone moves at their own pace when finding their sense of community.

Feel free to drop comments below if you’ve ever felt lonely or that your social life felt inadequate. Imagine if you were talking to someone in a similar boat, what advice would give them?