What No One Tells You About Starting Over

By Suzanne Suleiman MS, LLP - President

I didn’t grow up with safe connection.

What I grew up with was control dressed as closeness. Conditional love. Emotional volatility. Rage behind smiles. So when I finally separated from my family, it wasn’t just self-care—it was survival.

But here’s the part no one talks about:

Even when you’ve made the healthiest choice for your nervous system…

even when the boundary is clear and necessary…

loneliness can still feel like a punch to the gut.

It hit me in waves.

Not just grief over people—but over identity.

Who was I without those roles?

Without the emotional acrobatics I used to perform just to be tolerated?

So I started searching.

I joined groups. Sat in circles. Smiled through icebreakers.

Some rooms were too curated. Others too chaotic.

I often left wondering if something was wrong with me.

But then, slowly, I found a space where…

I didn’t have to audition for belonging.

I didn’t have to edit myself to be safe.

And something cracked open: a different kind of connection—rooted in presence, not performance.

If you’re on that journey too, here’s what helped me walk into the room before I felt ready:

1. Lower the bar.

Connection doesn’t start with soulmates.

It starts with eye contact. A shared laugh. A moment of feeling seen.

(That’s co-regulation in action—your nervous system learning, slowly, that it’s okay to soften.)

2. Let yourself be “new” somewhere.

We forget how vulnerable it is to start fresh.

Name it. Normalize it.

Your brain might read unfamiliarity as danger—but unfamiliar ≠ unsafe.

Remind your body: this is discomfort, not a threat.

3. Anchor to one safe thing.

Before walking into a new space, I’d text a friend. Carry a grounding object.

Sometimes I’d even map out an exit strategy—not because I’d use it, but because having a plan helped my brain relax.

4. Redefine success.

If I left a gathering with one moment of real connection—or simply proved to myself I could show up—that was enough.

Progress is nervous system permission, not performance.

5. Share one unpolished truth.

Not your deepest trauma. Just something real. “I get nervous at events like this.” “I almost didn’t come.” Vulnerability breeds connection—but it’s okay to do it slowly.

I used to think I had to “heal” before I could belong.

But the truth is—belonging is part of healing.

And you don’t have to be whole to be welcomed.

You just have to be willing to show up…

even if your voice shakes…

even if you leave early…

even if all you did today was try.

That still counts.

P.S. You are not alone.