Loneliness isn’t rare. In fact, it’s widely felt across America. According to the APA’s November 2025 Stress in America survey, more than half of U.S. adults report feeling isolated, left out, or lacking companionship. While these experiences are common, they are far from harmless. Research shows loneliness impacts far more than mood: it shapes our overall wellness, influencing sleep, immunity, chronic illness risk, and even life expectancy.
And during the winter months—when daylight fades early, routines shift indoors, and social activities naturally slow—feelings of disconnection often deepen. For many, what begins as a quiet season can gradually turn into a struggle.
For Peer Support Specialist Mckayla, who works at the NAVIGATE program at Hegira Health and lives with psychosis, navigating loneliness is both a seasonal challenge and a deeply personal one. Her story offers a reminder that connection, especially in the winter, doesn’t have to be grand or complicated. Often, it starts with small, intentional acts of reaching outward and inward.
Small rituals that build connection
When winter’s chill sets in, Mckayla doesn’t wait for “the right moment” to reconnect. Instead, she leans into everyday rituals that nurture belonging.
“A few things keep me more grounded while dealing with loneliness during the winter,” she says. “I read more, cook more, and call people to discuss these things a lot more often.”
For her, those calls, about a recipe she tried, a book she read, become meaningful points of contact. She also keeps a gratitude journal: each morning she writes down what she’s grateful for, then reviews the list in weekly phone calls with her mom, cousin, aunt, or a friend.
“Every morning I wake up and do a gratitude journal… then go over it during short phone calls.”
And she cherishes slow, grounding time with her boyfriend, relaxing, trying new things together, and sharing simple joys. These practices may seem small, but they stitch together feelings of connection when winter makes social life feel distant.
Navigating loneliness while living with psychosis
For people living with mental health concerns, winter isolation can feel even more complicated. For Mckayla, psychosis shapes her experience of connection in ways many might not realize.
“Living with psychosis has affected my experience of loneliness and connection in a multitude of ways,” she explains. “Most specifically how it fluctuates throughout the days or weeks, and how I manage the intense emotions paired with the fluctuation in thought patterns.”
This fluctuation, common for many experiencing psychosis, can be exhausting. It impacts memory, energy, motivation, and the ability to maintain routines or relationships.
“I become more forgetful and then that leads into neglectful behaviors over time,” she says. “I tend to not reach out to family or go out of my way to make relationships of significance.”
Yet she’s also deeply reflective about these patterns: “I’m very analytical, so knowing how my psychosis affects me is something I’ve mastered.”
Her insight highlights a powerful truth: loneliness isn’t just emotional. It can be neurological, physical, circumstantial, and deeply affected by mental health. Understanding this complexity helps reduce stigma around asking for help and opens up more compassionate pathways to support.
Support, self-care, and the power of small steps
Part of what’s helped most, she says, is forming a toolkit of coping strategies—things she can rely on when loneliness or mental health symptoms worsen.
“Becoming more self-aware… collecting strategies and coping skills that I can use at any given moment has been life changing.”
She also emphasizes the importance of leaning on supportive people and holding both herself and those around her to mutual standards for care and connection.
“Actually relying on my supportive people—and holding them and myself accountable to standards—has made a huge difference.”
This reflects a broader truth: you don’t need a large social network to stay connected. Often, one or two trusting, caring relationships, combined with consistent, intentional self-care, can make all the difference.If you’re looking to explore what building a community can look like in recovery, Michigan Minds offers a helpful guide on why community participation matters — and how to start finding your people.
Read more: “Finding Your Community: Why Community Participation Matters in Recovery”
What Mckayla wants others to know
When asked what she would say to someone struggling with loneliness, especially right now, her message is clear and urgent:
“To someone experiencing loneliness right now I would say to reach out to someone. Tell them. Tell them everything.”
That honesty, she says, can open doors to care we may not realize is available.
“You’ll be surprised at the help you can get when you just speak up for yourself. Be demanding, be difficult—it’s okay. It gets you what you need and to where you want to get to next in life.”
She also emphasizes safety and intentionality: take chances and try new things, as long as they are safe, because these small acts can prevent deeper feelings of isolation.
“You’re not alone,” she says. “We’re all more alike than we are different, and each person deserves to be heard and seen.”
Small steps toward connection this season
Inspired by Mckayla’s experience, here are some small but powerful steps anyone can try this winter:
- Build a simple daily ritual: a gratitude journal, a short walk, a morning coffee, anything that anchors your day.
- Reach out and share something small: a recipe, a song, a thought, even a short text can reopen a connection.
- Check in consistently with one or two trusted people rather than relying on a large social network.
- Name what you’re feeling, even quietly or privately at first. Honesty often dissolves shame.
- Allow yourself to be vulnerable: that honesty can lead to unexpected support and belonging.
Loneliness may be common, but it doesn’t have to define the season. Stories like Mckayla’s show how community often begins with small, intentional choices: opening your phone to check in, scribbling a few lines in a journal, or offering a simple invitation to share a meal or a moment. In the stillness of winter, those gestures can be the spark that keeps us connected, grounded, and hopeful.