You have friends. You have family. You have a partner. Yet, somehow, you feel unfulfilled. Even when you are with someone, there is a thin membrane deep in your chest, and you feel like you aren't truly connected. Many people must have experienced this sensation.
Most people try to process this as a "relationship problem." They think: let's be more social, let's learn to read the other person's feelings, let's train our communication skills. Or, they change their environment to find more like-minded people.
But that rarely heals loneliness. This is because the true nature of that loneliness does not lie in the "outside world."
Being "lonely even with people" means that it's not that you lack people to connect with, but that there is a "void" inside yourself. The more you try to fill that void with others, the more you head toward either dependency or disappointment. You end up at the extremes of being too close or too far. You only feel safe when you are with someone, and as soon as you are alone, anxiety rushes in. This is not a lack of relationship skills; it is a state of being disconnected from yourself manifesting on the outside.
In the world of psychology, this phrase is often used: "True loneliness is not the absence of someone else, but the lack of connection with oneself." Loneliness doesn't come from not having a partner, not being married, or not having children. It is simply a lack of communication with oneself. The root of the problem is in a different place from the start.
If you polish only your "relationship techniques" without realizing this, the unfilled void remains as it is. Rather, you will only accumulate exhaustion, wondering, "Why can't I connect even though I'm trying so hard?"
The quality of connection with others cannot exceed the quality of connection with oneself. People who are connected with themselves can connect with others. People who are not connected with themselves cannot connect with others. It is simple, but I think it is a fundamental structure that many people overlook.
What Jung Saw in Introverts
Carl Gustav Jung is one of the greatest psychologists of the 20th century. Starting as a disciple of Freud, he eventually broke away and established his own "analytical psychology."
Among the words Jung left behind is this:
"Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes."
When I first read this, I couldn't grasp the meaning for a while. What is the "dream" in looking outside? What is the "awakening" in looking inside?
But when placed in the context of Jung's thought, you realize this isn't just a poetic expression. These words touch the core of his philosophy (I dare say "philosophy" rather than psychology).
Jung was also the first person in the world to systematize the concepts of "introversion and extroversion." (The existence of "Introvert Philosophy" is thanks to Jung, not the MBTI.) In his writings, Jung defined introversion as a "nature where energy is directed inward." While extroverts gain energy from external stimuli, introverts replenish their energy by turning inward. Generally, being "shy" has been considered a "flaw" across all times and places—this hasn't changed from Jung's era in Switzerland to modern-day Japan. Jung saw introversion not as a flaw, but as a "structure" for processing information deeply and carefully.
And Jung pointed out that introverts have a specific tendency. Their consciousness tends to move toward "inner objects" rather than external events—that is, the power to dive into the structures and patterns behind things rather than their surface. Jung called this "introverted intuition."
This is where the opening quote, "Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes," takes on meaning.
For an introvert, "continuing to look outside" is draining. The expressions on people's faces, the atmosphere of the room, the amount of information flowing in. If you keep facing outward, your energy is steadily lost. And who you are becomes blurred. On the other hand, "looking inside" means facing your emotions, desires, and thought patterns honestly. It means shutting out external noise and listening to your inner voice. Jung called this "awakening." Only by looking inside can you know who you are. And from there, for the first time, you can connect with others "in reality, not in a dream."
Furthermore, Jung's thought includes the concepts of "Projection and the Shadow." Within the human heart sleep desires one doesn't want to admit, suppressed emotions, and weaknesses one has denied; Jung named this the Shadow. What happens if you go out into the world while ignoring this Shadow? The suppressed elements do not disappear; they manifest as "projections" onto others.
Let's look at a clear example.
When you feel intensely angry, thinking, "That person only thinks about themselves," the strength of that anger can sometimes feel abnormal. It's a situation where anyone else would think, "Is it really worth getting that angry?" yet you alone boil over. Of course, I have this too. A lot. Reading this from a Jungian perspective, this is often a projection. Your own suppressed desire to be self-centered (but believing you must not be self-centered) is being seen in the other person. That's why you react more strongly than a normal person to their "self-centered behavior." Because they are boldly embodying the part of yourself that you are denying by saying, "I can't be self-centered!!!" or "I have to think of others!!!", you cannot forgive it.
Or, I often hear stories like this: someone who never stops criticizing another by saying, "That person is weak, they give up easily," is actually terrified of their own weakness and is desperate to act strong. Or someone who keeps doubting others, saying, "That person is fake, they aren't being sincere," doesn't realize that they themselves are living while suppressing their true feelings. The arrow of criticism toward others often follows the trajectory of a boomerang.
The opposite pattern also exists. Excessively idealizing someone, rather than feeling anger, is also a form of projection. When the feeling arises that "This person is perfect, only they understand me," it reflects your own inner hunger to be "completely accepted" or "completely understood by someone." Therefore, if the idealized person shows even a slight human flaw, you are instantly disillusioned. The person didn't change; the projection simply collapsed. The term "frog phenomenon" (kaeruka genshou) was popular on social media a while ago, and this is exactly it. You project your interior onto the other person and excessively idealize them. The romantic pattern for such people is characterized by being "easy to heat up and easy to cool down, and very unstable." This, too, is caused by what Jung calls "Projection and the Shadow."
A person who does not face their own Shadow cannot see others accurately. The more they go outside, the more they continue to project their unconscious onto others, walking as if in a dream. That is one of the intentions behind Jung's words.
Now, for introverts, this task of "looking inside" is actually not something they are bad at. In fact, they are good at it. When alone in a quiet environment, their thoughts naturally turn inward. They can spend time digging into questions like, "Why was I so hurt then?" or "What do I really want?" Introverts can relatively easily notice the "projections and shadows" within themselves. If you can notice them, you can significantly resolve the "difficulty of living" in interpersonal relationships and romance. This is a major advantage.
Jung's "awakening" is the task of getting to know your own "outline" as deeply and as frankly as possible.
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