I asked therapists what their boomer clients struggle with most—the same answer came up constantly and none of them saw it coming

When I started reaching out to therapists for this piece, I expected to hear about technology struggles, health anxieties, or maybe retirement fears. What I heard instead stopped me in my tracks.

"Loneliness," said the first therapist. Then the second. By the tenth interview, I was hearing the same word over and over again. Not just any loneliness, but a specific, crushing kind that seemed to catch everyone off guard.

"My boomer clients come in for anxiety or depression," one therapist told me. "But when we dig deeper, it's almost always about feeling profoundly disconnected from the people they thought would always be there."

This wasn't what any of us expected. After all, this is the generation that perfected the art of networking, who built their lives around community involvement, who raised families and maintained decades-long friendships.

So what happened?

The perfect storm nobody predicted

The therapists I spoke with painted a picture I recognized from my own life. Many boomers spent decades pouring everything into their careers and immediate families. They assumed those connections would naturally evolve and deepen with time.

Instead, they're finding themselves more isolated than ever.

One therapist shared a story that hit close to home. Her client, a successful 65-year-old executive, realized he couldn't name a single person he'd feel comfortable calling if his wife was out of town and he needed help.

Forty years of workplace relationships had evaporated within months of retirement. His kids were busy with their own lives. The neighborhood friends? They'd all moved away.

I thought about my own father before his heart attack at 68. He'd worked 60-hour weeks for decades, always promising he'd have more time for friendships "later." When later came, most of those potential connections had withered away.

Why traditional support systems are failing

Here's what really struck me from these conversations: the structures boomers relied on for social connection have fundamentally changed or disappeared entirely.

Remember when people worked for the same company for 30 years? Those deep workplace bonds formed over decades are increasingly rare. The therapists told me their boomer clients often describe feeling "ghosted" by former colleagues who seemed like family but vanished after retirement.

Churches, social clubs, neighborhood groups? Many have disbanded or gone virtual in ways that don't feel natural to this generation. One therapist mentioned a client who'd been active in his Rotary Club for 25 years, only to watch it dissolve during the pandemic and never reconvene.

Even family dynamics have shifted. Where previous generations often lived near extended family, boomers' kids are scattered across the country or globe. Sunday dinners have been replaced by occasional FaceTime calls. The village that was supposed to be there simply isn't.

The comparison trap that makes everything worse

Several therapists brought up something I hadn't considered: social media is making boomer loneliness exponentially worse.

"They see their peers posting about grandchildren, travels, dinner parties," one therapist explained. "Meanwhile, they're eating alone again, wondering why everyone else seems to have figured it out."

This resonated with my own experience. After leaving my corporate job at 37, I felt incredibly isolated watching former colleagues post about their promotions and team celebrations. I can only imagine how much more intense that feeling must be after a lifetime of building an identity around work and family.

The therapists noted that boomers often feel ashamed of their loneliness, seeing it as a personal failure rather than a widespread societal issue. This shame keeps them from reaching out, creating a vicious cycle of isolation.

The unexpected gender divide

Something fascinating emerged from my interviews: male boomers are struggling significantly more than their female counterparts.

"Women of this generation typically maintained friendships outside of work," one therapist observed. "Men put all their social eggs in the career basket."

The numbers back this up. Men over 60 are far more likely to report having no close friends than women of the same age. The therapists described male clients who literally don't know how to make friends without the structure of work or organized activities.

One story particularly stuck with me. A therapist's client, a retired engineer, admitted he hadn't made a new friend in 30 years. He didn't even know where to start. The skills he'd used to build professional networks didn't translate to creating personal connections.

What's actually helping

Not everything I heard was doom and gloom. The therapists shared some surprising strategies that are working for their clients.

First, many are finding connection through purpose rather than pure socializing. Volunteer work, part-time jobs, or passion projects provide natural interaction without the pressure of "making friends." One client found his tribe through a community garden. Another by tutoring kids in math.

Second, structured activities work better than open-ended socializing. Book clubs, hiking groups, regular classes, anything with a clear purpose and schedule. The structure provides a reason to show up even when motivation is low.

Perhaps most importantly, therapists are helping boomers recognize that starting over socially at 60 or 70 isn't a failure. It's an opportunity to build connections based on who they are now, not who they were in their career-climbing years.

The vulnerability revolution

The most successful boomers, according to these therapists, are the ones willing to be vulnerable about their loneliness.

"The clients who admit they're struggling and ask for help are the ones who build new connections," one therapist told me. "The ones who pretend everything's fine stay stuck."

This matches what I learned during my own burnout at 36. Only when I admitted I was drowning did people step forward to help. The facade of having it all together was actually pushing people away.

One therapist described a breakthrough moment when a client finally told his adult son he was lonely. The son had no idea. He'd assumed his dad was busy with friends and hobbies. That honest conversation transformed their relationship.

The path forward

After all these conversations, I keep thinking about how we've normalized career changes, relationship changes, even identity changes. But we haven't normalized the idea that social circles need deliberate rebuilding throughout life.

The therapists emphasized that loneliness isn't a character flaw or an inevitable part of aging. It's a signal that something needs attention, just like physical pain signals injury.

They also pointed out something hopeful: boomers who address their loneliness often build richer connections than they ever had during their busy career years. Without the pressure of networking for professional gain, relationships can be more authentic.

If you're reading this and recognizing yourself, know that you're far from alone in feeling alone. The therapists I spoke with said nearly every boomer client they see is grappling with this, whether they initially admit it or not.

The first step isn't joining a club or downloading an app. It's acknowledging that the loneliness is real, it's not your fault, and it's absolutely worth addressing. Because the alternative, staying isolated while pretending everything's fine, is a recipe for declining mental and physical health.

What struck me most from these interviews was how preventable this crisis feels. If we can normalize talking about loneliness, seeking help for it, and actively maintaining social connections throughout life, maybe the next generation won't be blindsided by it.

After all, connection isn't a luxury. It's as essential to our wellbeing as exercise or healthy eating. The therapists were unanimous on this point: addressing loneliness isn't just about feeling better. It's about living longer, healthier, more meaningful lives.