When it comes to human connection Elias Choudhury used to be "the worst person."

That's how he describes how emotionally removed he had become by the time he was diagnosed in 2006 with combat post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD).

After tours for the British armed forces in Northern Ireland, Afghanistan and Iraq, Choudhury left the army and moved to Vancouver, but he soon discovered that his deeply ingrained habit of isolating himself from others had followed him.

One night, he woke up in terror. So many years of carrying depression and anxiety alone were catching up with him.

"I felt like I was going insane, I was losing it. I had no control and the fear was immense," Choudhury said.

Each year, one-fifth of Canadians will experience an episode of mental illness or mood disorder, the most common being depression and anxiety disorders, according to the Canadian Mental Health Association. A major symptom of these disorders is isolating oneself.

Choudhury believes shame is what silences many who live alone with trauma.

However, his fear of that first post-traumatic episode finally trumped his fear of rejection, and he began to talk to his partner, got counselling and started taking medication to manage his symptoms.

The real turning point, he says, came last year when he joined a "pod."

Elias Choudhury describes loneliness and the fear of rejection. 0:56

What's a pod?

Barry Samson is the creator of the "pods" in question.

These are virtual meet-ups where "podsters" commit to six months of weekly video conferencing with five other people going through isolating experiences like depression, anxiety, grief and addiction.

'Pod' members Barry Samson, Anna Dobos, Diane Panton, Elias Choudhury. (Ben Nelms/ CBC)

Samson planted these pods as a reaction to the loneliness he saw around him and began recruiting participants through his work as a life coach.

He says it can sometimes take participants weeks to talk during the online meetings. Some might even listen with their cameras turned off for several sessions — that's how much they struggle to communicate with others.

"It's a systemic problem in the Western world. We are manufacturing lonely and distressed people like we've never done before ... we have learned how to do lonely together," he said.

Samson knows personally how lonely depression can feel. He spent 31 years harbouring guilt over his mother's death.

She died when he was 10 and he convinced himself it was his fault. That means right into his 40s he simmered alone in fear and grief before suffering a nervous breakdown.

"The whole world is wondering why people don't connect. Well, we're terrified of the very thing we need, which is connection," he said.

Barry Samson describes how pod participation provides connection. 0:52

What does connection feel like?

Connection is a full-body experience, says Jane Olynyk. She's the counsellor at a connection-based program at The Haven, a retreat centre on Gabriola Island.

The program she facilitates is called "Come Alive," Olynyk says, because the counsellors believe isolation shuts down the body's natural ability to relax around others.

"We actually deaden in ourselves, it's like you're turning down the flame of your life," she says of loneliness.

Stories like Samson's and Choudhury's are not uncommon at The Haven. Olynyk sees people arrive with stories of trauma that have kept them feeling alone for 10, 20 or 30 years.

The trick, she says, is to learn that pursuing deeper relationships with other people can lift the burden of these old wounds.

"Connection" is not a magic tonic, it doesn't erase all vestiges of pain.

During an interview with CBC News, Samson broke down when speaking about his mother. Choudhury still takes his meds, and still reels occasionally under the effects of PTSD and depression.

But creating connected relationships in his life has helped Choudhury crawl out of the darkness on more than one occasion.

"I knew when I wanted more because I could feel it inside; I wanted to reach out and the more reaching I did the more I found."