It was a day like any other. The only words I had spoken since 8 am had been to my miniature dachshund. The only chatter was, as usual, the incessant chatter inside my head. My children were in school, and for the 6 hours they were there, I rattled around this old house like a ghost, not seen or heard by another living soul for hours. My house was eerily quiet with only an occasional bark from the aforementioned wiener dog and the sound of my fingers tap-tap-tapping away at the keyboard.

I had moved to a new state a year and a half prior. I still hadn’t made many social connections as that would have required me to leave my post at the keyboard where deadlines loomed like the wolf outside the piggy’s door. Most of my friends lived in the internet, and most of my conversations were little more than cordial mutterings. “How’s it going? How are the kids?” The answers were always the same. “Good.” “Fine.” “Busy.”

Tap, tap, tap continued to be the only sound in my ears. I would take a break from my work on occasion to vacuum a room or throw a load of laundry in. I loaded the dishwasher and pressed start. I put on a song with the hopes that the lyrics would cut through my brain babble. Soon the house would be filled with noise and the laptop put away for the day, but the loneliness didn’t always end when the house filled back up.

The boys rushed in and tossed their backpacks on the kitchen floor. Shoes were kicked off mid-sprint through the hallway. They scurried around me, chit-chatting about ridiculous homework assignments and the toils of P.E. class. They asked for food and the location of the iPad because it was my solemn duty to keep track of all the things. When my husband walked through the door, the kids pounced on him like you see lions pounce on gazelles in those nature shows. They swirled around me in happy chaos yet in many ways, I was still just rattling around alone because it wasn’t a physical loneliness but a mental one.

Parents slip into loneliness for a myriad of reasons. In my case, shame and fear were at the root. I struggled with depression and panic disorder and I retreated rather than reaching out. I put up a wall in a feeble attempt to keep anyone from seeing the disaster I felt I had become. This was my biggest mistake. In my greatest time of need, I blocked out what I needed most because I didn’t feel worthy of getting it. I was deeply ashamed of my struggle.

I think all of us who have ever dealt with crushing loneliness have, on some level, put up an emotional wall. Every article I read when I researched this subject advised joining a mom group or calling a friend,