As if loneliness isn’t painful enough, feeling ashamed that you’re lonely adds to the ache. Shame pours salt on the social isolation wound as if loneliness is your fault. As if it is a sign of your companionless state. Of your unworthiness.
I know what it is to be alone and be alright with it, to feel alone and wish that I were not, and to feel lonely — persistently lonely — which is far more egregious. I enjoy and need my solitude, perhaps more than many people, but as you might expect, I do not enjoy feeling as if I am going it alone when trouble comes to town, much less when I would prefer to share a happy or exciting moment and there is no one with whom to celebrate.
I make the distinction between being alone, feeling alone, and feeling (persistently) lonely intentionally.
As Dictionary.com puts it, loneliness is defined as:
… destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support, etc. … solitary, without company; companionless…
I am working on shedding the stigma of loneliness, in part by making myself speak of it, here.
Loneliness Is a Growing Problem
I will not refer to loneliness euphemistically as a “challenge,” but rather, as the serious problem that it is and the damage it does to our health. Columnist Nicholas Kristof highlights the negative physical impacts of loneliness in his recent New York Times opinion piece, Let’s Wage a War on Loneliness, noting that medical research tells us
Loneliness increases inflammation, heart disease, dementia and death rates…
Moreover, we are reminded that social isolation is “more lethal than smoking 15 cigarettes a day or than obesity.”
Incidentally, loneliness isn’t just an American problem, and nor is it a small one. Among the most striking bits of information in Kristof‘s article is this:
More than one-fifth of adults in both the United States and Britain said in a 2018 survey that they often or always feel lonely.
Kristof also reminds us that one-quarter of Americans live alone. Think about that. Tens of millions of us live alone, myself included. You, too? And even if we have casual acquaintances nearby (I have a very nice neighbor I’m getting to know in my building, for example), this may not be enough to combat the insidious impacts of feeling lonely.
The Changing Social Fabric
The social fabric that many of us grew up with has changed dramatically. First, the social constructs that keep us busy and offer a sense of belonging when we are young (school, family, sports or other activities) either cease to exist when we reach a certain age or are significantly reduced. Second, our social fabric used to be comprised of family units that did not fracture so easily, greater stability in terms of jobs and thus geographic proximity to friends and family, and other means to connect to communities that provided a sense of belonging. These connections supply the tangible support that people require to feel safe, or more specifically to feel as if they aren’t going it alone when times are tough.
No, I am not looking to turn the clock back to an era of egregious exclusion and denigration of certain groups of people, not to mention damaging and dangerous judgment as to the narrow path of “appropriate” lifestyles.
But I am giving a nod to useful social structures that are no longer reliable and in some cases, no longer available for millions of us. That includes loss of the camaraderie of the traditional workplace due to unemployment or involvement in the uncertain “gig economy.” And yes, enter social media to (theoretically) take up some of the slack.
Loneliness Is Commonplace
As adults, intellectually, we understand that loneliness is commonplace. We understand the life stages that may make loneliness predictable. For example, we recognize loneliness in adolescents who are learning to separate themselves from their parents and trying to find out who they are. We accept a measure of loneliness when starting a new sort of life in a new place (e.g. college or a new job); relocating to a new city, state, province or even country; adjusting to a new living situation like marriage, which can be a surprisingly lonely state if the degree of intimacy is not what we anticipated or the in-laws are less than welcoming.
Losing a spouse to death or divorce are two more life events that can cause catastrophic loneliness, at least for a period of time.
Empty nest is another predictable stage that delivers a degree of loneliness, not unlike adolescence in some ways, particularly for those of us who are single at midlife. Suddenly, all the tasks and all the nurturing we are accustomed to (that keep us busy and offer meaning) are no longer such an integral facet of our daily lives. What then is our purpose? Where do we put those energies involved in caretaking and loving? Who have we become?
And if we don’t find those answers in a relatively short amount of time, we may feel ashamed. Ashamed to find ourselves alone as if we have no value when our lives are suddenly less populated. We feel like the odd man out. We feel smaller, embarrassed even. We feel “less than” if we haven’t an immediate family to fuss over and spend time with.
These unaired feelings are often more obvious (and awful) around the holidays. And social media may further intensify a sense of not being “good enough” — especially around the holidays – comparing ourselves to the pretty picture of others whose lives seem so much fuller and more valuable.
But most of us hesitate to “admit” that we are lonely.
A Note on the Nature of Shame
I want to return to the definition of loneliness that I cited above as I try to zero in on the element of shame that so many of us take on when our solitude crosses into the danger zone.
The notion of loneliness as an absence of “friendly companionship” suggests that we are (essentially) friendless, or feel friendless. It is that, in my opinion, which leaves us feeling ashamed and exacerbates other feelings of low self-esteem we might be experiencing for other reasons. It’s as if no one wants us. As if no one values us for who we are or even what we can do for them. At least, not any longer.
What a pernicious definition of loneliness!
Now let’s think about shame, the nature of shame and its devastating impacts. This 2019 Scientific American article is an instructive read, and these words capture familiar feelings, certainly for me.
Shame is the uncomfortable sensation we feel in the pit of our stomach when it seems we have no safe haven from the judging gaze of others. We feel small and bad about ourselves and wish we could vanish.
Shame sets us down. Shame walls us in. Shame makes us smaller.
One of the most crippling aspects of shame is the way we withdraw to avoid the judgmental gaze. It’s bad enough that we judge ourselves; to avoid the judgment of others we may hide our true feelings (tiring!) or hide ourselves (easier). The former becomes more and more difficult, and the latter results in narrowing the very options that could help.
But the shame? The burden of that shame and the fatigue of pretending?
Shame is utterly unhelpful whatever the troubles that sit at its origins. And feeling ashamed of being alone or lonely is self-sabotaging and destructive — albeit understandable in a world that shouts its hook-ups and love connections and engagements and marriages and “successes” of all sorts.
Alone Time Is One Thing, Loneliness Is Dangerous
Naturally, the mere fact of living alone does not mean you are lonely. (Generally speaking, I like living alone, and when I was living with a partner, my own “ideal” living situation would have more likely resembled the early years of Big and Carrie, i.e. the person I love is nearby, next door or down the street, but not so in-my-space and in-my-face.)
Loneliness, on the other hand, ups the likelihood of all those potentially dangerous emotional and medical challenges discussed above. I certainly know this to be true in my own life, as a practical matter and as explained in this point that Kristof makes in his plea to “wage war” on loneliness.
… people who are alone are less likely to go to doctor appointments, to take medicine or to exercise and eat a healthy diet. We may resent nagging from loved ones, but it can keep us alive.
Like most parents, throughout the years I was raising my children, I was there to ensure that they saw the doctor, ate a healthy diet, and so on. As a single parent, I had to be there for myself to ensure the same, but the primary reason that I did so was in order to take care of my children. Even so, all too often when it came to caring for myself, I did a lousy job of it.
As an empty nester, in the years I have lived alone, and particularly as I have dealt with logistical challenges in terms of injuries, it is far more difficult to accomplish what was once so simple — seeing a doctor, remembering to exercise or take a prescription, eating a healthy diet and so on.
And in attempting to navigate the insanity of the American health care system, one of the most challenging consequences of being alone is the absence of another adult to advocate for me, yet one more terribly common scenario in this country. I know how frustrating, time-consuming and exhausting this process is now; I worry about how much worse it will be in the future. I worry about all of us in our aging population of singles.
Friends, Reminders
So what do we do about loneliness? How do we shed the shame of feeling “friendless” and as if that state of affairs is our own fault? What do we do with the holidays bearing down if loneliness has us by the throats?
I offer any number of solutions, both short-term and long-term, in this post on coping with loneliness. Many of the suggestions may seem obvious — exercise, connecting with your creative side, calling an old friend on the phone, volunteering and more.
But sometimes the effort to “get out there” and make new friends is a trade-off you aren’t up for. Sometimes social anxiety keeps us at a distance from meet-and-greet opportunities. Sometimes the logistics of getting around or getting out render it impossible to leave Isolation Island behind. And sometimes, you — we — really need to push ourselves to do it, to step outside our comfort zones (and front doors) and smile and say hello and “fake it til we make it.”
If nothing else, any attempt to make new connections should remind us that we are braver than we think we are. That in and of itself is worth a little self-congratulatory back pat.
A mention: A few weeks back an old friend was passing through town. She stayed the weekend and we caught up, adding a few new strange and silly adventures to our long, rich, and entertaining relationship. Although it had been more than 10 years since we last saw each other, it seemed more like 10 days.
It was a delightful, fun, funny and energizing weekend of reconnection, yet after she headed home, my mood plummeted. I suddenly felt my loneliness, profoundly. And the feeling — heavy, demoralizing — stuck with me for days.
Systemic Loneliness
So why did I drop down a well after a wonderful weekend?
I couldn’t help but remember a time when my friend and I saw each other constantly, socialized routinely, shared confidences, and as young women, imagined our futures. The contrast with my present is stark.
I couldn’t help but remember years when both our lives were filled with people we had much in common with, and with whom we felt most alive. Again, the contrast is a disturbing one.
I couldn’t help but acknowledge the extent to which once “usual” ways to establish and maintain a sense of belonging and self-worth have diminished or disappeared, and as a consequence, millions of us are suffering what I think of as systemic loneliness. And recognizing systemic loneliness feels overwhelming. But I also feel heartened.
Might the realization that loneliness is so widespread and tied to a changing society ease the sting of self-blame for our real or perceived “friendless” state? For our paucity of meaningful connections? Might it lend courage to our individual efforts to address a set of broader societal problems? To consider the practical matters of health and health care, access to transportation, financial inequities and impediments especially as we age, and more creative living arrangements when families are split apart?
Perhaps that is the larger point that Kristof’s article makes, which ought to encourage us to speak of it more openly, to find positive ways to deal with it and to alleviate the shame we feel when loneliness knocks on the door and installs itself for far too long a visit.
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Robert says
Thoughts of this have been very much on my mind too, as of late.
One of the things I’ve realized is that our friends have always been older. Now time is taking its toll. One couple spends most of its time fighting cancer. Some can no longer leave the house. One, who was a cornerstone of my life, now has dementia. The rest are staring all that in the face.
And there is the rapidity with which all that can change. A few years ago we were surrounded by friends, to the degree it was work to keep up with them. But life happens, to everyone – people move away, or just recede.
We lost the last of the four parents recently. While of course we have been the ones in the caretaking position in recent years, when you lose them you realize they still held a space in your mind as protectors. We have no children, so we can’t help but wonder how we will end. We look at our older friends with no children and wonder how they will end. It seems likely we will be involved.
There is what you have spoken of before – that you can feel alone in the midst of company. I know from personal experience that when facing a life-threatening illness for the first time it is almost impossible for someone to come into your place of alone-ness. And once you have been there you realize that to some degree you are always alone, no matter how good the circumstance.
D. A. Wolf says
Thank you for this very thoughtful comment, Robert. There is much to chew on here.
Given the date today, I also thought a great deal about our veterans as I was writing early this morning. I cannot imagine the extent to which they feel alone, in particular when they return home from overseas and have to deal with so many challenging aspects of transition.
There are many flavors of loneliness, and too much stigma attached to all of them.
Sheila Lamont says
Exceptional insights…both in your posting and in Robert’s follow-up comments!
“…you realize that to some degree you are always alone, no matter how good the circumstance.”
D. A. Wolf says
Glad you found this interesting, Sheila. And Robert always makes me think, too. In fact, when it comes to his remarks and my own on aging as a single, this post with stats on women (especially) and men growing old alone highlights the burgeoning challenge among middle-aged and older Americans. We are certainly at risk of precisely the types of loneliness-related health issues that Kristof’s writing (and mine over the years) addresses.
Considering the numbers — in the tens of millions of us — we ought to be able to do more. At the very least, I’m appreciative when a voice like Kristof speaks out.
TD says
‘Tis the season to feel lonely’ isn’t it DA, for some of us… sigh.
Yes, to all of this. And I was just thinking about this sometime this morning before I read your post.
This topic is a challenge for me all through the year and I do really try to reach out, try to make a new acquaintance, to find a friend, to build a meaningful friendship. And that, my blogger friend, is so fleeting!
D. A. Wolf says
Indeed, TD. Hard any time of the year.
TD says
The way that I’m going to deal with this seasonal loneliness is hibernate underneath my comfy duvet. I went to our local bookstore and purchased two audiobooks and two hardback books. Freezing cold weather is here now. Time for self care, hot baths, and literature! No snow to shovel. And no tourists to deal with!!!
I certainly don’t feel shame. I did not create society systems. I have to find my own way to survive the systems. I think you will understand that statement.
PS to Robert: I want you to know that I do read your contributions. I like hearing from you.
1010ParkPlace says
I know loneliness is a huge problem but hadn’t thought that shame went with it. You know Brene Brown writes a lot about women and shame. I was an only child who was good at entertaining myself, lived an unbelievable life and now I’ve chosen to be alone and fill my days from start to finish with a “to do” list, and now writing a book, my dog and friends when it’s convenient for us to get together. I’m so very blessed. xoxox, Brenda