Erin Peavey was four months pregnant when she lost her mother to cancer. After her daughter was born in January 2019, the loneliness set in. Her mother had been her rock, a source of steady support. Now, home alone with a newborn and her husband working full time, Peavey clung to a piece of advice her mother had always given her: stay connected.

Each day, Peavey strapped her newborn to her chest and took walks in their Dallas, Texas, neighborhood. She hung out in coffee shops, made small talk at the grocery store, and got into the habit of visiting other such “third places”—a term by urban sociologists for informal gathering spots that aren’t home or work but can foster community. Peavey, an architect, says she didn’t need in-depth exchanges with others, she just felt a shared connection when out.

“It was like this antidote to the loneliness and mental struggle from losing my mom at the same time as becoming a new mom for the first time,” she says. “I was just struck by this gift that my built environment was for me…It allowed me to cope.”

Many experts now consider loneliness to be a public health epidemic, with the former U.S. Surgeon General warning that it affects roughly half of American adults and raises the risk of premature death to levels comparable to smoking 15 cigarettes a day. But as these mental health challenges mount, experts like Peavey are asking: What if the spaces around us could help us feel less alone?

“The built environment, which is everything from our streets to housing to transportation systems, is such an important piece of how we actually interact with each other,” says Julia Day, a partner at the global urban strategy firm Gehl. “While addressing an epidemic requires multiple tools, changes to place design and programming are a key ingredient.” A 2024 report by the Foundation for Social Connection underscores this point, showing how the built environment can hinder or encourage meaningful social interactions—whether brief or deeply personal.