Let's Talk About Loneliness

These days, I talk about loneliness on a daily basis. I’m a programme coordinator for a charity project which uses reading groups to spark conversations and tackle social isolation. But for most of my life, loneliness wasn’t a word in my vocabulary. And yet it was something I’d lived with for many years – ironically a companion that followed me everywhere I went.

It is a pest – something that as a society we’ve shrouded in shame and stigma. If you’re lonely, it must be because nobody wants to be friends with you, right? It hits right to the heart of our childhood fears of being Billy-No-Mates playing alone at lunchtime. Yet by adulthood, it’s something that should no longer trouble us: we’ll have a huge network of friends, and be fine spending time on our own anyway. Only the ‘spinsters’ or society’s ‘outcasts’ will be lonely…

This isn’t the truth, of course. I’m a 24-year-old woman – outgoing, confident, the life of a party. Nobody would look at me and think I’m lonely, unaware that loneliness has stalked me at many points throughout my life.

I arrived in London from Birmingham, aged 19, ready to take on the big city. I snagged a job in the Buying office of a high street retailer, moved into a shared house and got stuck into my exciting new career. In an office of hundreds of employees, I got to know lots of new people and enjoyed the vibrancy of my workplace. Until Friday, when the dread would start to set in as we’d discuss our weekend plans. Everyone had a brunch to go to, a birthday party or a visit to see their friend’s new baby. My plans were always a bit more...vague. The few friends I had here often seemed to be busy studying or working, and my new housemates worked shifts and were always out when I was home.

So on Monday, I’d say I ‘just chilled’ rather than admit the truth. That I’d sat in my rented room crying, then finally dragged myself out and wandered around the sights of London, looking on enviously at the bars and restaurants filled with groups of laughing people, all having a good time together. Now to be clear, I’m a person who enjoys my own company. But being alone because you don’t have any alternative is another kettle of fish. It makes you feel ashamed, like a loser that nobody wants to hang out with.

So eventually loneliness combined with unresolved mental health issues found me in a deep depression. I convinced myself I just needed to try harder. So when those Friday conversations came up, I started to be a bit braver. I explained that I didn’t know many people outside of work and that a lot of my friends worked shifts, so I’d probably spend the weekend alone. Colleagues were sympathetic and would extend future invites to hang out with them, but never anything specific and obviously not this weekend because they were hanging out with their real friends. And so it went on.

I realised it was easier to get a date in this city than make a new friend, so I started online dating and after a few months, I met my boyfriend. I spent all my weekends with him, and just like that my loneliness was cured! I moved to a new job where my colleagues were younger and a bit more sociable, and my loneliness became a distant memory.

Then one day, someone mentioned a charity called South London Cares. Young professionals volunteered to hang out at social groups with the over 60s, with the aim of building connections and tackling loneliness. Considering my love of people and a good chinwag, as well as my memory of being lonely, I decided to sign up. I’d go to a few groups a month and it quickly became something I really looked forward to. I’d have wonderful conversations with interesting people, and see how much of a difference it made to them having this strong connection to their community and the younger generation. I started to talk about loneliness more, but as something that impacted elderly people – not myself.

However, a couple of years into my relationship, my boyfriend started working away. He’d be gone for weeks at a time, and I quickly realised that loneliness had just been lurking around, waiting to take me back into its embrace. I still hadn’t made many more ‘hanging-out-on-the-weekend’ friends and had even neglected the ones I did have because I spent so much time with my partner. My volunteering at South London Cares became a lifeline to me. But outside of those few hours, I was alone again.

As my relationship slowly disintegrated and my mental health deteriorated, I was no longer able to keep up the facade. So with nothing more to lose, I began to talk. I started saying out loud that I was lonely. At first it would be awkward and it made others uncomfortable, but eventually, people started to admit they’d felt the same way too. I started to get more social invites, as well as arranging things myself and encouraging others to socialise. I read an article about young Londoners using dating app Bumble to find new friends, via their new BFF feature. I signed up, thinking surely nobody is really doing this? I was overwhelmed by the thousands of ‘normal’ girls just like myself wanting to make some new friends in the capital. Many were expats, new to London, or perhaps had older colleagues who were busy with their families. It felt like a weird date at first, but I met some amazing people that I’m still friends with to this day.

So by the time I broke up with my partner, I had a good friendship group and always had weekend plans booked weeks in advance. For the first time, I’d found real solutions to my loneliness. But I was determined to keep talking about the issue. I was open about my experiences when I had the opportunity, and made sure to extend social invites to people I knew might feel a bit lonely, as well as continuing to arrange social activities at work where everyone was free to come along. In my personal time, I attended seminars and talks, read articles and books, and sought out studies about loneliness. It was becoming a hot topic, with it’s serious physical and mental health impacts finally being revealed. I found out about other charities working to tackle this issue, which eventually led me to my current role at a loneliness charity.

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So that for me was my journey through loneliness. Moving away from home was the cataclysm, but I’d been lonely for a lot of my life, just in different ways. At school for example, I went through a phase of feeling really different and ‘other’. Or in the past few years, I’d become overwhelmed with work and lost touch with my hobbies and people who had the same interests as me. There are many other reasons that people of all ages and circumstances experience loneliness including bereavement, mental health issues, children leaving the nest, a divorce, gentrification breaking up communities, a new work environment, or lacking safe spaces of like-minded people. Loneliness can affect anyone. I learned that isolation is a silent pandemic. It is never far from the surface if you know where to dig. But because of the stigma, many people still cannot talk about it.

So I was pleased to hear loneliness and the impact of social isolation being considered quite early on during the Covid-19 lockdown. The UK Government announced a £5 million Loneliness Covid-19 Fund. Charities and councils rose to the occasion, ensuring that the most vulnerable people in our society were not left isolated – and reached new people who were suffering even before this pandemic. It has shone a light on the fact that for many of our elderly and vulnerable, this is normal life: being confined to the home with minimal human contact. There has also been more focus on the fact that many people lack digital skills or internet access which excludes them from digital solutions that have become prevalent during this time. And thanks to campaign groups such as No More Prisons, more people have started to question the use of solitary confinement as a punishment (which in itself reveals the devastating impact of social isolation on humans).

The conversation has extended to the younger generations too. When faced with the reality of working from home and being unable to socialise, we quickly turned to technology such as Zoom calls, as well as the long-forgotten telephone call, to keep in touch. Personally, living alone in lockdown I’ve been inundated with calls from friends, relatives and colleagues asking if I’m okay and checking I’m not lonely. They are surprised when I say that this is one of the least lonely times in my life because people are asking openly about my feelings and mental health; questions I wish they’d asked me a long time ago. I’ve felt able to reach out and chat if I’ve been feeling a bit down.

Due to the pandemic, we’re rebuilding a sense of community that I feel has been lost in many parts of Britain, and giving ourselves a new toolkit with which to tackle isolation. I’ve remembered the joy of hearing a familiar voice at the end of the telephone or receiving a letter in the post. Via social media and digital events, I’ve discovered new communities of like-minded people that were previously hidden from me. From helping people out with their shopping and talking more to my neighbours, I know their names, and that they're there to call on whenever I’m in need. I’ve become friendly with the people who run the local cafés, and look forward to chatting to Ed: the security guard in my local Sainsburys.

I’m a believer in making the most from bad situations. So if there’s one thing I hope we build on from this pandemic, it’s the value of community and the need to tackle isolation. We need to keep checking in with our family, friends and neighbours. Speak openly about our feelings and allow others to support us when we need it. Spend our cash at local businesses, where the staff know our names. Don’t slip back to our old anti-social habits. We need to stay connected, and in the new post-pandemic world, let’s keep talking about loneliness.

This week (15-19th June) is Loneliness Awareness Week, in partnership with Let’s Talk Loneliness, The Marmalade Trust and the Jo Cox Foundation. Find out more at here and join in the conversation on social media using the hashtags #LetsTalkLoneliness and #LonelinessAwarenessWeek

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