On Loneliness
I, like most people, don’t like admitting I’m sometimes lonely. I have lots of friends and keep myself busy but still feel lonely at times for someone close to make tea for me in the morning, sometimes, discuss the day’s headlines and trade a little gossip.
It reminds me of that joke where a convent schoolchild in catechism class remarks to the nun teaching her that Eden must have been a very boring place to live for Adam and Eve. When the nun asks why, the child says, “Because they had no one to talk about.”
Don’t get me wrong. There are advantages to living alone. You only have yourself to worry about. You can do what you want when you want. When I got divorced at age 58, I felt free. From cooking dinner to cleaning up after or arranging his clothes. I had visions of making a myriad of new friends and lovers who would settle me firmly on the route to eternal happiness.
Hmm.
As it turns out, all this personal freedom also leads to loneliness. I’m not sure I like being at the also-ran table at weddings with only the bride’s inebriated Uncle Phil to shuffle around the dance floor with. I’ve stopped eating out alone at restaurants because the waves of pity from happy couples ruin my appetite. And this talking to yourself thing is very troubling. I ask questions, and then I answer them. I tell jokes to thin air. And laugh at them.
But allowing yourself to drift ever deeper into loneliness is dangerous. Try your best to find your tribe: a hobby group, a hiking group, a soap carving group, or birdwatching. Anything that will force you out of your head and into the world. It’s amazing how an hour or two of human interaction can change one’s mood. You have a good time and then go happily home feeling good about knowing you’re part of a community.
So do not sit there alone. Be grateful and try to defray your blues with action. That is the best advice I can offer.
After eight years of solo living, sometimes I’m afraid that I am getting far too used to loneliness for my own good. And I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. Or a bad one.
I continue to eat out solo despite this at times feeling sad and am frequently the only person in that situation in the restaurant. For the first time in my life, I was eating at a restaurant last week and, of all things, reading an article about loneliness, when the waitress came to my table and told me that a nearby table had paid for my dinner. I was speechless. Then a man from the group came back to his table to look for something he had forgotten so I had the opportunity to thank him directly. He hugged me and said that was what he was on earth to do. It was very moving. Part of me prefers not to be so visible to others as the odd one out by herself and yet there was something very moving in being noticed and met with empathy. I’m still digesting (no pun intended) my feelings about this experience. It did make me think about doing this myself in the future for another solo diner.
Your statement concerning getting used to loneliness is poignant. I think that being at peace being on one's own is healthy; and getting used to loneliness in our daily lives would not be good for us.