I was sitting at the farmers’ market last Saturday when I overheard two women talking.
One was maybe in her early 70s, and she was telling her friend how she wished she’d stayed closer to people back when she still had the energy to really nurture those connections.
It stuck with me.
Here’s the thing—I’m only in my early 30s, but watching my parents navigate their 50s has opened my eyes to something important. The choices we make decades before we reach old age can quietly set the stage for how connected or isolated we’ll feel later.
Research shows that loneliness generally decreases through middle age and into the early 70s, but then it increases significantly after age 75. The key word there is “generally”—because what we do in our 50s can dramatically shift whether we fall into that pattern or not.
I’m not a psychologist, but I’ve been paying attention. And what I’ve noticed, both in research and in real life, is that certain patterns in midlife can pave a path toward isolation in our later years.
1) Letting friendships drift without effort
Life gets busy in your 50s. I get that even now with two little ones underfoot.
But there’s a difference between being busy and completely letting go of the people who matter. When we stop reaching out, stop making plans, stop checking in—friendships don’t just pause. They fade.
Matt’s dad once told us he regrets not keeping up with his college friends. Now he’s in his 60s, and those connections are basically gone. It’s not that anyone did anything wrong—they just stopped trying.
The truth is, friendships require maintenance. A quick text. A monthly coffee date. Anything that says “you still matter to me.”
If you let that slide in your 50s, you might wake up in your 70s wondering where everyone went.
2) Becoming rigid about routines and new experiences
I’ve noticed something about people who seem the loneliest later in life—they stopped saying yes somewhere along the way.
New activities feel like too much effort. Meeting new people seems exhausting. Everything becomes about comfort and routine, which sounds nice until you realize those routines are isolating you.
My neighbor is in her late 70s, and she’s one of the most connected people I know. You know what she told me? She makes herself try something new every year, even when it feels uncomfortable. Last year it was a pottery class.
Staying open to new experiences in your 50s keeps you engaged with the world. It keeps you interesting and interested. And that matters more than we think.
3) Prioritizing work over relationships
I left teaching partially because I could see where that path led if I wasn’t careful—endless hours, constant stress, relationships on the back burner.
There’s nothing wrong with caring about your career. But when work becomes your entire identity, what happens when you retire?
Studies show that married people tend to be less lonely in older adulthood, and meaningful social contact helps reduce persistent feelings of isolation. But those connections don’t just materialize—you have to invest in them before you need them.
I think about this with Matt. Yes, we’re both busy—him with contracting work, me with writing and the kids. But we still have our evening check-ins. We still hold hands on walks.
If you’re in your 50s and your partner feels like a roommate, that’s a problem worth addressing now, not later.
4) Avoiding vulnerability and emotional honesty
This one’s harder to spot because it looks like strength.
Growing up, my parents didn’t really talk about feelings. Everything stayed surface-level. My dad, especially—he just wouldn’t open up. And now? He struggles to connect deeply with anyone, including us.
Real connection requires vulnerability. It means admitting when you’re struggling, asking for help, sharing what you’re actually feeling instead of what you think people want to hear.
If you spend your 50s behind emotional walls, don’t be surprised when people stop trying to climb them.
I’m learning this with my kids now. When I mess up with Ellie or lose patience with Milo, I apologize. I tell them how I feel. It’s uncomfortable sometimes, but it’s also real.
5) Neglecting physical health and mobility
This might seem unrelated to loneliness, but hear me out.
When your health declines, your world shrinks. You can’t get out as easily. Social activities become harder. Eventually, you’re stuck at home while everyone else is living their lives.
I’m not saying you need to run marathons. But taking care of your body in your 50s—moving regularly, eating reasonably well, addressing health issues before they become crises—that’s an investment in your future social life.
My morning routine is simple: I wake early, do some gentle stretching, maybe take a walk. Nothing fancy. But it keeps me feeling capable and energized enough to show up for people.
That matters at any age.
6) Holding grudges and refusing to forgive
Nothing isolates you faster than resentment.
I’ve watched this play out in my extended family. Old arguments that nobody even remembers the details of anymore, but everyone’s still mad. Twenty years later, people don’t talk. Holidays are awkward or non-existent.
Here’s what I’ve learned from my own journey: holding a grudge doesn’t hurt the other person nearly as much as it hurts you.
Recently I read something in Rudá Iandê’s book “Laughing in the Face of Chaos” that really stuck with me. The book talks about how “being human means inevitably disappointing and hurting others, and the sooner you accept this reality, the easier it becomes to navigate life’s challenges.”
That perspective shifted something for me. We’re all going to mess up. We’re all going to hurt people we care about sometimes. Holding onto every hurt just builds walls.
7) Retreating from community involvement
Remember when people knew their neighbors? When they showed up at town meetings or volunteered at local organizations?
That’s becoming rarer, and it shows in our collective loneliness.
I’m part of a babysitting co-op with a few other families, and I volunteer at the community garden where Ellie has her own small plot. These aren’t huge commitments, but they keep me connected to something bigger than just my immediate household.
People who pull back from community in their 50s—who stop volunteering, stop participating, stop showing up—they’re unplugging from a support network they’ll desperately need later.
Your 50s are actually the perfect time to deepen those roots. You’ve got experience and time to offer. Don’t waste it staying home.
8) Dismissing technology and refusing to adapt
I’ll be honest—I’m intentionally low-tech in a lot of ways. We limit screens at home, and I’d rather my kids play outside than stare at tablets.
But completely refusing to engage with technology? That’s a recipe for isolation.
My mom struggled with this for years. She didn’t want to learn video calls or texting beyond the basics. And when the pandemic hit, she was so much more isolated than people who’d already embraced those tools.
You don’t have to be on every social media platform or understand every new app. But staying connected in our modern world requires some baseline tech literacy.
The people who refuse to adapt in their 50s often find themselves unable to connect with younger family members or participate in how their communities now communicate.
9) Believing you don’t need anyone
Maybe the most dangerous habit of all.
There’s this idea—especially in certain generations—that needing people is weakness. That independence means never asking for help. That self-reliance is the highest virtue.
And look, I value independence too. But we’re social creatures. Psychologists describe loneliness as the social equivalent of physical pain, hunger, and thirst—our bodies literally signal us that we need connection to survive.
I think about the moms I know who refuse help even when they’re drowning. Who won’t admit they’re struggling. Who wear their isolation like a badge of honor.
That mindset in your 50s becomes dangerous in your 70s. Because eventually, you will need people. And if you’ve spent decades pushing everyone away and insisting you’re fine alone, who’s going to be there?
Conclusion
Writing this has made me think about my own future—decades from now when Ellie and Milo are grown and Matt and I are the older generation.
What am I doing now that will shape whether I’m lonely or connected then?
The research is clear: we’re not helpless victims of loneliness in old age. The habits we build in midlife matter enormously.
So if you’re in your 50s, or heading there, or even if you’re younger like me—it’s worth asking: Are you nurturing connections or letting them slip? Are you staying open and engaged, or slowly closing yourself off?
The lonely 70-something at the farmers’ market didn’t get there overnight. She got there through a thousand small choices made years earlier.
The good news? That means we have the power to choose differently. To reach out instead of pulling back. To say yes instead of no. To stay connected instead of drifting away.
Our future selves will thank us for it.
