Lately, I’ve been carrying around a kind of quiet loneliness. The kind that doesn’t always look like loneliness on the outside, but sits in the silence after group texts go unanswered, or when I realize no one checks in unless I check in first. It's the loneliness of being a fringe friend, that person who’s always around but rarely truly included. And now, in what’s supposed to be one of the most exciting seasons of my life, planning my wedding, I feel it more than ever. I thought getting engaged would be this beautiful turning point. That people would rally, be excited, want to hear every detail. But I’ve found myself hesitating to even bring it up, like I’m worried I’ll be bothering people or taking up space I’m not really “allowed” to take. It’s hard to share joy when you’re not sure anyone is really listening.
That feeling didn’t start with the wedding. When my book got published, a literal dream come true, I barely told anyone. Not because I wasn’t proud, but because I didn’t feel like anyone would genuinely care. I didn’t want to feel that familiar ache of sharing something meaningful and being met with indifference or silence. So I kept it to myself. And that hurt even more.There’s this sinking feeling that comes with always being on the edge of every circle. I’m the extra invite when someone feels generous. I’m the one who finds out about things after the fact. People like me, sure. But do they choose me? Not often.
And now, as I make a guest list for my own wedding, I’m faced with a gut-punching question: Who would be excited to be there for me? Who would show up for me, not out of obligation, but because they truly care? The answers aren’t as clear as I hoped they’d be. It’s made me retreat. It’s made me doubt. And it’s made me feel like maybe something’s wrong with me for feeling this way at all. But here’s what I’m learning, and what I’m slowly trying to do to climb out of this place:
Name the feeling.
Loneliness isn’t weakness. Disconnection can happen even when you’re surrounded by people. Admitting you feel like a fringe friend doesn’t make you needy,it makes you human. You can’t heal what you won’t name.
Stop chasing people who make you feel optional.
It’s hard to let go of people you wish were your close friends. But if someone constantly leaves you on the outside, that’s a loud kind of silence. Start paying attention to who reciprocates your energy, and start letting go of those who don’t.
Seek connection in smaller, honest ways.
One real conversation can mean more than a dozen group chats. You don’t need a big circle; you need a few people who see you. Vulnerability is scary, but when you start showing up as your full self, even with one or two people, you make space for deeper connection.
Celebrate yourself anyway.
Even if no one throws you a bridal shower or fawns over your Pinterest board, your wedding is still yours. Your love is still real. Your book, your accomplishments, your dreams, they are worth celebrating, even if you’re the only one clapping. It’s okay to feel sad about what you don’t have, but don’t let that sadness steal what you do.
Find your people or build your own circle.
Sometimes, your people aren’t in your current circle. Look for spaces where depth is encouraged, support groups, creative communities, volunteer teams, anything with shared values. It's never too late to build the friendships you’ve always wanted.
So, if you’re also a fringe friend planning a wedding, or just going through something big and feeling painfully unseen, I see you. And I know how heavy that feels.
But you are not invisible.! You are not hard to love. And your story, your joy, your presence, they all deserve to take up space.
Even if no one else says it: I’m excited for you. And I hope you find the people in your life who are, too.
Cheers,
Coach Jo 🩷
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