I’m 37 and I just realized my independence may be less about independence itself and more about deciding in my twenties that needing people wasn’t safe

by Lachlan Brown | May 13, 2026, 10:52 am

That title hit me like a punch to the gut when I first read it.

Because if I’m honest, I could have written those exact words myself. For years, I wore my independence like a badge of honor. I didn’t need anyone. I could handle everything on my own. I was the guy who never asked for help, never admitted when things got tough, and definitely never let anyone see me struggle.

But here’s what I’ve learned: sometimes what we call our personality traits are just old wounds dressed up in acceptable clothing.

The moment everything shifted

A few months ago, I was sitting alone in my apartment on a Friday night. Again. My phone was silent, not because I’d turned it off, but because I’d trained everyone in my life not to call. I’d become so good at saying “I’m fine” and “I’ve got it handled” that people had stopped checking in.

And for the first time, I asked myself: Is this really independence, or is this just loneliness with better marketing?

The answer wasn’t pretty.

Looking back at my mid-twenties, I was lost, anxious, and desperately trying to keep it together. I’d done everything “right” by conventional standards, but I was falling apart inside. And somewhere in that mess, I made a decision that would shape the next decade of my life: I decided that needing people was dangerous.

Maybe you made a similar decision. Maybe someone let you down when you needed them most. Maybe you opened up and got burned. Maybe you asked for help and got judgment instead.

Whatever happened, you learned the same lesson I did: it’s safer to go it alone.

How we mistake isolation for strength

Here’s the thing about calling yourself independent: it sounds so much better than admitting you’re scared.

Independent people are strong. They’re capable. They’re admired. But people who are afraid of connection? People who’ve built walls so high they can’t remember what it’s like on the other side? That’s a different story.

I spent years perfecting my independent persona. I became the friend who gave advice but never asked for it. The colleague who took on extra work rather than admit I was overwhelmed. The partner who kept my struggles hidden because vulnerability felt like weakness.

And you know what? It worked. People saw me as strong, reliable, self-sufficient. But they also saw me as distant, hard to read, and impossible to really know.

The irony is that in trying to protect myself from the pain of needing others, I created a different kind of pain entirely. The slow, quiet ache of disconnection that seeps into everything.

The cost of false independence

When you spend years calling loneliness a personality trait, it starts to affect every area of your life.

Your relationships become surface-level. Not because you don’t care about people, but because letting them in feels too risky. You keep conversations light, deflect personal questions, and master the art of being present without really being there.

Your mental health takes a hit. All that anxiety and worry I battled through my twenties? A lot of it came from trying to carry everything alone. When you don’t let anyone help carry the load, it gets heavy fast.

Your growth stagnates. Because here’s something I learned from studying Buddhism: we’re interconnected beings. We grow through our connections with others, through vulnerability, through the messy, beautiful process of needing and being needed. When we cut ourselves off from that, we cut ourselves off from a huge part of what makes us human.

And what is false independence if not ego in disguise?

Why we choose loneliness over connection

So why do we do it? Why do we choose isolation and call it independence?

Fear, mostly.

Fear of rejection. Fear of abandonment. Fear of being seen as weak, needy, or too much. Fear that if people really knew us, they wouldn’t stick around.

These fears usually stem from real experiences. Maybe you had parents who were emotionally unavailable. Maybe you went through a brutal breakup or friendship ending. Maybe you reached out during a dark time and were met with silence.

Your brain, trying to protect you, made a logical conclusion: if needing people leads to pain, then not needing people will keep you safe.

Except it doesn’t work that way.

Because humans are wired for connection. Studies consistently show that relationship quality is the single biggest predictor of life satisfaction. We literally need each other to thrive.

When we deny this basic need, we don’t become stronger. We become disconnected from ourselves and others. We mistake numbness for peace and isolation for independence.

Breaking the pattern

So how do we break free from this pattern? How do we start to untangle real independence from fear-based isolation?

First, we need to get honest about what’s really going on. That means admitting that maybe, just maybe, our fierce independence is actually fear in disguise.

Start small. The next time someone asks how you’re doing, resist the automatic “I’m fine.” Tell them one true thing, even if it’s small. When you’re struggling with something, ask for help before you’re desperate. Let someone do something nice for you without immediately trying to even the score.

Practice vulnerability in low-stakes situations. Share a worry with a trusted friend. Admit when you don’t know something. Let people see you less than perfect.

Remember that real independence isn’t about not needing anyone. It’s about knowing you can take care of yourself while also being open to connection and support. It’s about choosing to let people in, not because you’re desperate, but because connection makes life richer.

Through Buddhism, I learned that suffering often comes from attachment to expectations, including the expectation that we should be able to handle everything alone. True strength comes from accepting our interdependence, not denying it.

The path forward

If you’re 27 or 37 or 57 and just realizing that your “independence” might be loneliness in disguise, know this: recognizing the pattern is the first step to changing it.

Your twenties confusion was normal. Feeling lost doesn’t mean you’re broken. Making decisions from a place of hurt doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

The beautiful thing about realizing you’ve been calling loneliness a personality trait is that personality traits feel fixed, but loneliness is situational. It’s something you can change.

Start today. Send that text. Make that call. Say yes to that invitation you’d normally decline. Admit you’re struggling with something. Ask for advice. Let someone help you.

It won’t feel natural at first. After years of going it alone, vulnerability feels like walking outside naked. But with practice, it gets easier.

Conclusion

Real independence isn’t about not needing anyone. It’s about being secure enough in yourself to admit when you do need others. It’s about having the courage to be vulnerable, to ask for help, to let people see the real you.

The loneliness you’ve been calling independence? It’s not serving you anymore. Maybe it protected you once, kept you safe when you needed it. But you’re ready for something more now.

You’re ready for real connection. For relationships that go beyond the surface. For the scary, beautiful experience of letting people in.

Because at 37, or any age, it’s not too late to realize that needing people isn’t weakness. It’s what makes us human. And calling loneliness what it really is doesn’t make you less independent. It makes you brave enough to change.

Lachlan Brown

Lachlan Brown is an entrepreneur and co-founder of Brown Brothers Media, a digital publishing network reaching tens of millions of readers monthly. He holds a Graduate Diploma of Psychological Studies from Deakin University, though his real education came afterward: a warehouse job shifting TVs, a stretch of anxiety in his mid-twenties, and the slow discovery that studying the mind is not the same as learning how to live well. He started experimenting with Buddhist principles during breaks at the warehouse and eventually began writing about what he was learning. That writing became Hack Spirit, a widely read personal development site, and his book Hidden Secrets of Buddhism became a bestseller. His work breaks down complex ideas into frameworks people can apply immediately, whether they are navigating a career change, a difficult relationship, or the gap between knowing what to do and actually doing it. Lachlan splits his time between Singapore and Saigon. He writes about high-performance routines, decision-making under pressure, digital innovation, and the intersection of Eastern philosophy with modern life. His perspective comes from having built things from scratch, failed at some of them, and learned that clarity comes from practice, not theory.