The Table
A few years ago, my younger son started high school. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I could lift my head above the frenetic pace of school runs, lunch recitals, Christmas plays, sports fixtures, and birthday parties. Work was good. Things were stable. My first surprise: I suddenly had free time. Followed rapidly by a second realisation that hit much harder. Besides my immediate family, I didn't really have anyone I wanted to spend it with.
I didn't have a tribe. No go-to girls, no ride-or-die crew. In the hop, step and jump of my young adulthood, moving across five cities in twelve years, then diving straight into marriage, raising a family, managing a household and building a career, I had acquired hundreds of contacts but very few confidantes.
That realisation is part of why I hosted a small retreat a few weeks ago called Make Room. A handful of women, a weekend away from the pace of their lives. What struck me was how fast the walls came down once the performance stopped. Women who walked in as strangers were sharing things by Saturday evening that they hadn't said out loud to anyone. They didn't need a programme or a prompt. They needed a space where nobody had to pretend.
I don't think my story, or theirs, is unusual. Tara would recognise it, even if her version looks different on the surface. She has a husband, good friends, a church she's been part of for years, a WhatsApp group that never stops. She's not lonely in any way that anyone around her would notice. But her conversations have become functional. How are the kids? How's work? Fine, fine, busy, busy. She has people, but the depth has thinned. When was the last time someone asked how she was really doing, and she told the truth? She's not sure.
She's not unusual. That gap between being surrounded and being seen is something many midlife women carry without naming it. And it matters for your health, not just your mood. Chronic social disconnection increases inflammation, raises cortisol, disrupts sleep, and weakens immune function over time. Your body registers the difference between being around people and being known by them.
Your body was not designed to carry life alone. Neither was your spirit.
So what does it look like to rebuild?
Start with one honest conversation. Not a catch-up over coffee where you both perform "fine." Call the friend you trust most and tell her something real. Depth comes before breadth.
Look for tables, not audiences. A small group, a supper club, a walking partnership, a prayer group. The spaces where you are known by name, not by role.
Be the one who initiates. If you're waiting to be invited, you may be waiting alongside someone who is doing exactly the same thing. Send the message. Suggest the date. It will feel awkward the first time. Do it anyway.
Give yourself permission to need people. If you've spent decades being the strong one, the capable one, the one everyone leans on, receiving can feel harder than giving. But community is not community if it only flows in one direction.
If you don't have that table yet, you can build one. Start small. Start honest. Start this week.
Health in your body, peace in your soul, purpose in your step.
Lolu :)
