Breaking the Silence: How Society Shapes Women's Loneliness

The Silent Epidemic: Understanding Women's Loneliness

Last week, I spoke with a young woman who seemed to have everything sorted—educated, active social life, supportive family. Yet she confided that she felt profoundly lonely, as though no one truly saw her suffering. She's far from alone in this experience.

If you're a woman reading this, you might know exactly what she means. That hollow feeling of disconnection, even when you're surrounded by people. That sense that you're performing a version of yourself while the real you—exhausted, overwhelmed, hurting—stays carefully hidden.

You're not imagining it. And you're certainly not alone.

Women and girls, particularly young women between 16 and 24, consistently report some of the highest rates of loneliness. But here's what makes this especially painful: many of these women appear to "have it all together" on the outside. The loneliness is invisible, which makes it even more isolating.

Let me walk you through why this is happening—not because there's something wrong with you, but because the world you're navigating was designed with impossible expectations built into it.

The Impossible Balancing Act

You're supposed to be confident, but not threatening. Ambitious, but not selfish. A devoted mother, but also professionally successful. Sexually attractive, but not too sexual. Put together, but effortlessly so—heaven forbid anyone sees the work it takes.

Do you ever feel like you're playing a game where the rules keep changing, and no matter which choice you make, someone's disappointed? Where you feel like you're never good enough, always guilty about something?

That's not in your head. That's real.

German comedian Florian Schroeder captured this brilliantly: women are expected to look like top models while having children—but only at the "right" time. Not at 20 (too young, too irresponsible) and not at 40 (too old, too risky). You should have the right number of children—not one (too selfish) and not four or more (too many)—with the right partner at precisely the right moment.

Once you have children, you're expected to maintain your career and be self-confident—but not too confident, or you're cold and too career-focused. You should stay home to be a good mother and keep the house spotless, while simultaneously advancing professionally. And through it all, you must maintain that top model appearance—it shouldn't show that you're aging, have had children, or that you're exhausted from juggling impossible demands.

It's a game in which there is no way to win.

And when you inevitably fall short—because you're human, not superhuman—the message is clear: you're the problem. You're not organized enough. Not resilient enough. Not trying hard enough. Too selfish. Too career-focused.

The truth? You're trying so hard that you've forgotten what it feels like to just be. And that kind of relentless striving, with no acknowledgment and no endpoint, is profoundly isolating. You're surrounded by people, yet you feel utterly alone—because the real you, the exhausted and overwhelmed you, has to stay hidden.

The Weight of Invisible Work

Here's what a typical day might look like:

You wake up before everyone else. Get yourself ready—or at least presentable—while mentally running through the day's logistics. Wake the kids. Navigate breakfast negotiations. Pack lunches. Find the lost shoe. Drop-off. Commute. Work a full day while fielding texts about permission slips and doctor's appointments. When you're at work, you feel guilty for not being at home with the kids. When you're home with the kids, you feel guilty for not being at work. You leave work exactly on time (feeling guilty about that, too) to make pickups. Homework. Activities. Dinner prep. Clean up. Bedtime routine. Finally collapse on the couch, only to remember you need to respond to those work emails and prep for tomorrow.

Your partner asks, "What did you do today?" and you can barely remember.

This isn't just being busy. Here's something that might validate what you already know: women spend an average of 70% of their time on housework, while men spend 42%. Even when both partners work full-time, women carry significantly more of the invisible load—the mental work of remembering, planning, anticipating, taking overall responsibility, and coordinating that nobody sees.

And here's the isolating part: this work is expected to be invisible. When you do it well, nobody notices. When something falls through the cracks (and something always does), everybody notices. Your contribution only becomes visible when it's absent. Your self-worth becomes defined by your shortcomings, not your achievements.

You might work alongside colleagues all day, come home to a house full of family, and still feel desperately alone. Because you've learned to put your needs last—it's become so normal that no one even asks what you need anymore, just "what's for dinner?"

The loneliness isn't about being physically alone. It's about being surrounded by people who depend on you while feeling that your own needs, your own self, has become invisible. You're constantly needed but rarely truly seen.

The Judgment That Isolates

Ironically, the conflicting role expectations don't spare women who don't have children either.

I've talked to many women who don't have children for various reasons. They've shared with me that they often feel judged as being cold, too career-focused, and selfish. Think about this for a moment: compare their situation to men who have no children. Society is generally much more accepting and forgiving towards childless men than towards women. The negative labels attached to childless women make the person behind them unseen.

And here's probably the saddest part about these unrealistic role expectations, from my own experience: Women are judged by other women just as harshly, and sometimes even more harshly than by men. This is how deep the conflict runs in all of us.

The Stigma of Admitting Loneliness

Now can I tell you something that might surprise you?

I've lost count of how many times women (and men) have told me they feel lonely, immediately apologizing for it as if they've done something wrong.

This is what stigma does. It turns a universal human experience into a shameful secret.

You might have a full calendar and a phone full of contacts, yet still feel that hollow ache of disconnection. And then comes the voice: What's wrong with me? Other people manage. Why can't I?

But here's what that voice doesn't tell you: Admitting you're lonely doesn't mean you're failing at connection. It often means you're succeeding at survival—keeping all the plates spinning, meeting everyone's expectations, maintaining the performance—while your own need for genuine connection goes unmet.

For women especially, there's a particular cruelty to this stigma. We're supposed to be the connectors, the relationship-builders, the emotionally intuitive ones. So if we're lonely, the message is clear: we're failing at the one thing we're "naturally" supposed to be good at.

That's not true. What's actually happening is that you're exhausted from connecting on everyone else's terms. You're lonely for connection that sees you—not the role you play, not what you can do for others, but the person underneath all of that.

The loneliness isn't the flaw. The impossible expectations creating it are.

And the moment you can say, "I feel lonely" without apologizing for it? That's not weakness. That's the beginning of finding your way back to yourself.

The Social Media Trap

This conflict has been amplified by media, particularly social media, which bombards you with unrealistic standards. Motivational self-improvement clips, beauty-enhancing content, and carefully curated glimpses into celebrities' lives create the illusion that glamorous perfection is achievable with a few simple tips. When you don't reach these impossible standards, it feels like individual failure rather than what it truly is: a response to contradictory and unattainable expectations.

The pressure to be everything to everyone while maintaining a flawless exterior leaves many women feeling exhausted, inadequate, and profoundly alone.

And for young women especially, the impact is devastating. Studies have shown that young girls are specifically targeted for profit with messages that amplify feelings of "not being good enough," pushing them to conform to unrealistic beauty and behavioural standards that primarily serve companies and influencers selling products.

The time spent on smartphones and social media has increased dramatically, while face-to-face time with friends has decreased. During the transition from childhood to womanhood, young girls naturally seek validation from peers to build self-confidence and self-esteem. But with an overemphasis on looks and appearance as indicators of "social worthiness," young girls are particularly vulnerable to advertising and comments about their appearance.

The images young girls and women create online—constant selfies and glamorous snapshots—are often superficial, staged presentations of what they've come to believe their lives should look like. In doing so, they enter a downward spiral that perpetuates the behaviour, reinforcing among their peers the idea that staging a life online is the way to "exist" in a world of unrealistic expectations.

When the Screen Becomes a Weapon

Social media has displaced real-world connectivity and personality development. Its intrusive and impersonal nature—always present and active wherever we go—doesn't hold users fully accountable for the content they create, including bullying. This multiplies the devastating effects of online harassment.

Real-world experiences of turning to friends and family for support are replaced by endless scrolling in attempts to "fix" oneself. The addictive and selective nature of social media algorithms, which echo young people's worst fears back at them nonstop, has been identified as one of the main drivers of the worldwide epidemic of loneliness, especially in young women.

Moreover, an increase in misogynistic online content targeted at young men for political gain—aiming to justify and normalize violence and abuse against girls and women—has created an image of the world for young women that feels devaluing and threatening. This intentional online intimidation amplifies feelings of loneliness in a world that simply doesn't feel safe.

Why "Going Back" Is Not the Answer

In recent years, ultra-conservative movements have begun weaponizing women's struggles, pushing the idea that the answer lies in "going back" to traditional roles: staying home, raising children, managing the household, and serving as objects of male desire. They romanticise a past that never truly existed and present it as a solution to modern women's loneliness and exhaustion.

As someone who has experienced the unfairness and dangers of systemic gender inequality professionally and personally, I find this infuriating. This picture of a seemingly perfect world ignores the reality of women who have suffered greatly and silently under a system designed to sacrifice women's needs by default to maintain male comfort and dominance.

What this narrative conveniently ignores is that returning to a model where women are confined to a single role doesn't remove their problems. It makes them vulnerable to abuse, silences them by removing their right to choose, and traps them in lives of dependency.

History shows us clearly that women were not happier, healthier, or more fulfilled when their lives were restricted to childrearing and domestic work. The reality for many women—including my own mother—was far from the idyllic picture often portrayed in 1950s movies. Women were expected to endure every situation passively.

Societal expectations and legal restrictions worked together to discourage girls from seeking financial independence and fulfilling careers. Instead, girls were pressured to marry young and have children. The belief that men's careers and needs took priority was widely accepted. Once married, women became financially and socially dependent on their husbands, regardless of how those husbands behaved. Marital problems and domestic abuse were considered private matters, forcing women to suffer in silence and, fundamentally, alone.

Fortunately, the situation for women and girls has improved. But we must not mistake current challenges as evidence that progress was wrong. The development of feminism and gender equality has certainly revealed further challenges that need to be addressed—by moving forward, not backward in time. Women's loneliness won't be solved by removing their choices; it will be solved by creating a society that truly supports everyone in all their varied roles and aspirations.

The Body as Battleground

For many women and girls, the natural rhythms and changes of their bodies are treated as secrets—topics so taboo that they deepen isolation and silence.

Menstruation, premenstrual symptoms, menopause, and conditions like endometriosis are often minimized, ridiculed, stigmatized, and rarely discussed openly. You're expected to cope silently, which leads to withdrawal, shame, and isolation.

The consequences are significant. Severe menstrual pain may cause you to skip school, sports, or social activities. If you're going through menopause, you often face dismissive attitudes or age-related stereotypes. Chronic conditions like endometriosis or PCOS are frequently misunderstood or dismissed by healthcare providers. All of this leaves you feeling unsupported and alone.

By keeping these experiences hidden, society reinforces the message that you must endure your struggles alone and in silence. This secrecy affects your mental and emotional wellbeing while deepening loneliness, as you often feel you cannot openly share these challenges with friends, family, or colleagues.

Yet speaking openly about these natural bodily experiences—in schools, workplaces, families, and communities—can begin to break the stigma. Sharing knowledge, validating experiences, and creating safe spaces allows women and girls to feel seen, supported, and connected, helping to counter isolation.

Life Transitions and the Loss of Self

Loneliness has a way of slipping in during life's turning points—when the house grows quiet after children leave, when a relationship comes to an end, when a career takes an unexpected turn, or when menopause reshapes both body and mind. For many women, these moments unsettle the roles that once anchored daily life and provided a sense of purpose. What's lost extends beyond the people or rhythms you've known; it touches something deeper—your very sense of self. Who am I now, if the old ways of being needed no longer apply? This kind of uncertainty can leave you feeling profoundly alone, even in a crowded room.

Society makes these natural transitions far more difficult than they need to be. There are no cultural rituals to mark these passages, no communal acknowledgment that you're moving through something significant and deserving of support. Instead, these changes often happen in silence and isolation. The underlying message is clear: women are valued for what they do for others—as mothers, carers, workers, partners. When those roles shift or end, there's an unspoken sense that your worth has diminished too, with little cultural language for exploring identity beyond usefulness.

As women age, particularly beyond menopause, they frequently experience a kind of social erasure. Media, workplaces, and social spaces center younger women, leaving midlife and older women feeling invisible and irrelevant. Meanwhile, cultural narratives and social media create pressure to navigate these transitions gracefully and independently—making it shameful to admit struggle or ask for help. The loneliness deepens when it seems everyone else is managing just fine.

Adding to this, the traditional support networks that once held women through difficult passages—extended family nearby, neighbourhood connections, community groups—have largely fragmented. You're less likely to have the organic, everyday relationships that provide witnessing and solidarity. Even significant experiences like menopause get reduced to symptoms requiring pharmaceutical management rather than being understood as profound life transitions deserving emotional and social support.

These societal factors transform what could be natural, supported passages into isolating experiences of loss and confusion, leaving you suspended in an uncomfortable in-between with little scaffolding to help you through.

The Violence That Silences

Women remain disproportionately affected by domestic violence and abuse worldwide. Yet violence and abuse against women and girls is still often treated as a personal problem rather than a societal one.

Even in developed countries, support for women in domestic violence situations faces fluctuating funding and inconsistent government policies. Despite improvements in recent years, available support systems are often insufficient.

Tragically, the taboo surrounding domestic violence pushes the burden back onto affected women. They often feel blamed for their situation by uninformed individuals. If you're experiencing domestic violence, you may feel tremendous shame, which pressures you to keep silent to avoid making things worse or potentially more dangerous. This compounds the isolation, resulting in a painful loneliness that's extremely difficult to break.

Finding Your Way Forward

Loneliness in women is complex. It doesn't exist in a vacuum. Societal pressures, conflicting role expectations, taboos around health and aging, and unrealistic standards all create fertile ground for isolation to grow. Understanding these broader forces can help you recognize that loneliness is not a personal failing but often a natural response to impossible contradictions and unacknowledged struggles.

At the same time, there's no single way to address loneliness. Your experience is personal, and what works for one woman may not work for another. Small, intentional steps—reaching out to trusted friends, building communities, practicing self-compassion, or seeking professional support—can all help, but the combination and timing must fit you.

Loneliness coaching, for example, can be a powerful tool for you to explore your feelings, clarify what you need, and develop strategies that resonate with your unique situation. Yet it's only one of many possible approaches. Peer support groups, creative activities, volunteering, or simply allowing yourself space to reflect can be equally valuable—especially when they honor your personal journey.

It's important to note that while loneliness coaching can be valuable for navigating life transitions, social pressures, and building connection, certain situations require specialized support. Women experiencing domestic violence need access to dedicated services (Services Australia - Family and Domestic Violence). Similarly, physical health concerns including hormonal imbalances and conditions like endometriosis require medical care alongside any emotional support.

My aim here is to shine a light on societal factors that exacerbate loneliness, so you can approach your own feelings with awareness and self-compassion. By recognizing both the external pressures and the personal nature of loneliness, you can take steps—small or large—toward connection, understanding, and empowerment in ways that truly work for you.

You are not alone in feeling alone. And feeling lonely doesn't mean you've failed—it means you're human, navigating a world that often asks the impossible of women. There is no shame in that, and there is hope in recognizing it.

Change begins with a single step toward feeling seen again. If that speaks to you, I invite you to book a free discovery call with me.