Lots of Contact, Little Connection: When No One Is Truly There for You

After a traumatic experience, I reached out to people I thought would be there. 

What happened next changed how I see connection and support.

Maybe this is a slightly less optimistic post. But I think there needs to be room for that too. Life isn’t always sunshine and roses, and we should be able to share these experiences openly – without shame and without feeling like a burden...

Lots of Contact, Little Connection

I went through something quite traumatic not too long ago. I live alone, so when I feel the need to talk to someone, it’s natural to pick up the phone. That’s what I did right after the event.

And it hit me harder than I expected.

With smartphones and apps like WhatsApp, people just don’t call each other as easily anymore. It used to be normal to call friends or acquaintances for just about anything. Those times seem gone.

It almost feels like calling someone directly is “not done” these days. You send a short message first, and if you really want to call, you check if it’s convenient for them—and when.

So if you do call someone directly now, it’s interpreted as “urgent”. Otherwise, you would’ve texted first, right?

And urgent it was in my case. This was serious.

It seems only human to feel the need to talk to someone—or a few people—about something like this.

And when people hear how serious it is, they do listen.

Out of courtesy, at least at first.

A few days later, if you still or again feel the need to talk, you might call again. But not for long. The facts are known, after all.

As if it’s only about the facts.

Facts & Processing

Apparently, it never occurs to anyone that a traumatic event comes with a whole processing journey. When you’re working through trauma, you need to be able to tell your story multiple times. One round of facts just isn’t enough.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that my calls were seen as “a bother”.

01

Call once? Fine. They listen because they can’t just hang up—it would be insensitive, the story is too serious for that.

02

Call a second time? You better have new facts, because: “Why are you calling again? You’ve already told me this.”

03

Call a third time? They don’t even pick up.

There were people who did pick up, cheerful even. They happily used the moment for a casual chat. I tried my best. It felt like a “give and take” situation. But I just couldn’t summon the energy for it.

One person did listen to me extensively—but even they expected some sort of return. As long as I stayed “small,” they could feel “big” (or superior). It was an additional heavy burden for me.

Naturally, this lack of availability—or absence of genuine altruism—made me feel very alone.

From some, I never heard again.

That’s fine. I leave it at that. I stopped reaching out. Because friends who can’t—or won’t—be there for you at such a moment, are they really friends?

The Weight of Absent Support

In the end, the traumatic event itself was perhaps less heavy than its social consequences. The lack of support and resulting loneliness made the process of coping extraordinarily difficult to bear alone.

Because handling it alone was too much, I went to my general practitioner and asked to be referred to a therapist. But that’s a separate story.

For Now…

For now, I just wanted to share my frustration about something that really disappointed me: that nowadays, it’s nearly impossible to call anyone when you truly need to.

Have you ever experienced a time when you needed support and calling seemed harder than it used to be? Or noticed that friends weren’t available when you needed them most?

I’m curious to hear how you’ve dealt with this. Maybe you recognize some of what I’m saying, or maybe you’ve found a different approach that works for you.

And if you think this story might help someone feeling alone or struggling to talk about something heavy, please share it on social media or send it directly to them. Sometimes a single shared story can make all the difference.

Featured in SATURDAYS with Diana "Are Friends Still Really Friends?" Read the issue →

Photo: Alexander Ruiz