I feel alone. A lot of the time. It isn't because of the current state of our lives, truthfully, life for me isn't really so different than normal. I would venture to guess that a lot of people could say the same.
I was listening to one of my usual podcasts today on a trip out into the world, courtesy of a third trimester blood draw. The topic was loneliness. The discussion was centered around how rampant this feeling is, how it is often not seen, or discussed, and of course the dire health implications once it becomes a chronic issue. One of the suggested hitches keeping loneliness from having more awareness was shame. People who are lonely feel like there is something wrong with them, or are embarrassed that they feel it.
I have not seized this time at home to churn out blog articles about my views, opinions and strategies for coping with quarantine. Frankly, I have't had any more time to allocate to writing, arguably I have had fewer opportunities to dedicate to my writing or the other facets of my new business. Also, how many articles on quarantine wellness or mental health do we really need? I try to avoid beating dead horses, especially when they are already two hooves into the glue factory. Besides, I didn't really have any major epiphanies on what would make us all happy, grateful, spiritually whole or whatever else industries and influencers think will help us through. But hearing this talk today made me want to write and really dilute this idea of loneliness to examine what it really looks like for people.
I think there are a lot of common classifications of loneliness. The elderly, new moms, the kid at school who sits by himself at lunch, the guy in town who carries a duffle bag and avoids eye contact. And by common classifications, it seems as though we have stereotypes. These 'types' by no means capture the wide array of sufferers. They do nothing to create an accurate, individualized picture. They do not purport any visibility for the individual. Woe is the stereotype.
Feeling alone has its roots in a deeper collection of sentiments. For each person, it's a particular blend of: not being seen, listened to or given a chance to speak; not being understood, related to or having the opportunity to find people who have been through similar experiences; feeling ignored or overlooked; not having deep, real conversations with others; not having the help or resources that they need; having physical or health limitations; and being treated as less than.
These feelings can sometimes be because a person misreads a situation or interaction, but often, it isn't a result of imagination or paranoia; our behaviors, actions and poor communication are the direct causes for people feeling this way.
In many cases, there is a rush to cover up this feeling with a diagnosable pathology. I think of a quote by Luiza Sauma who said, "In my opinion, postnatal depression is a rather rational response to being left alone at home with a newborn baby and a traumatized body." This notion is applicable to so many people in their own circumstances. They are suffering, up against challenges and without resources and rather than reaching out with conversation, support and practical help, we medicate them. Or worse, say something like, "what do you expect, you just [had a baby] [were in a car crash] [returned from deployment] [are at that age]... this is normal."
Extended loneliness should never be regarded as normal and acceptable for anyone.
After I had my first baby, I was rather vocal about the reality of it all. I spoke up because the way things were bothered me and I was searching for change. I know to some, I came across as one-note, speaking candidly about the body changes, the relentless and repetitive days, the lack of family support or ability to have a babysitter as often as I desired, and also the expectation that I would return (quickly) to my prior level of competitive fitness. I was angry a lot. Angry that my friends without kids didn't get what I was going through and stopped calling as much. I was angry that I have a seriously broken family which meant practically zero help. Angry that I was researching infant health topics like mad and I was developing a plan for how I wanted to raise my baby, but when I finally did get some relief from my spouse or family, they ignored every aspect of my deeply important strategy because it's not what they would do, what they knew, what was important to them. Often I felt insignificant and powerless. I wasn't valuable to my fitness friends because I wasn't working out side by side, and didn't know if I wanted to anymore. I felt like the work I was doing as a mom was not valued. I felt like the information that I gathered in an effort to provide structure to my home was viewed by others as optional, disposable. I lacked the resources I needed to get through my days and sleepless nights with a sense of health, balance and dignity.
Our society is so transactional. I was told time and time again, "just hire a babysitter." Pay for some help. You deserve it. No one offered to come sit with me and listen to me. No one attempted to really see me.
How often is that our solution for the people in our lives? Why don't we offer to spend time with each other? Why don't we offer to listen? And can we even listen without thinking of ourselves or jumping into problem solving mode? Can we stand next to someone and respect their desires and wishes and selflessly help them get to where they want to go?
We can spot loneliness if we want to. Who are those people who are the first to a party, or the last to leave? The eager volunteers who sign up for every opportunity. The workaholics. Anyone going through a transition in life. It's probably safe to assume that most people are dealing with this in some way.
I hope that we emerge from this phase of living with a renewed value for communication and understanding. This may be a cliche to say at this point, but I really hope we do. We need to view talking to each other, listening, and understanding as go-to remedies for probably most of what ails us.
Don't make those perfunctory check-in calls and texts just because it's the quarantine-vogue thing to do. We should be doing this all of the time. And we should be doing this with a readiness to listen selflessly and to act on behalf of others.
"A Letter To My Mother" virtual journaling workshop is going live tomorrow through Mother's Day on May 10th. Let your mother, wife, friend or mentor know you appreciate her, it just might be that she needs to hear. LINK TO TICKETS.
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