Modern life is alienating. This past May, the US surgeon general issued a statement about the current epidemic of loneliness, which not only affects mental well-being, but can be as detrimental to physical health as smoking. Even prior to the Covid-19 pandemic, half of US adults reported feeling lonely. We move and change jobs more often than ever, and technology has affected how we interact with each other. Those of us afflicted with chronic pain and illness, which not only limits our ability to get out, but often leads to marginalization by others, can thus find ourselves especially lonely in an already lonely world.
I’ve never been a highly social person, often preferring solitary activities – long walks, artistic endeavors, reading – to human interaction. But nonetheless, we humans are social animals, and I’ve always treasured my small circle of friends and family. And while I didn’t fully appreciate its value until I lost it, it was also grounding and validating to be part of a community. For many years, I was active in a 12-step recovery group. Also, seeing and interacting with others in the course of running errands or walking in the neighborhood nourished my fundamental sense of humanity.
I’ve struggled with chronic pain since the age of 30, but when it became significantly more debilitating at age 50, I dropped quickly into isolation. Some of this was self-imposed. I didn’t want people visiting me when I could barely get off the sofa. There was the sense of failure and shame for having poor health and this new level of disability. I didn’t want to be seen in this state. This was also a sort of denial. It was okay to isolate temporarily, I reasoned, because I’d improve and then be able to get out again as before.
While over the years there has been improvement, I have not regained my former level of physical comfort or health. I am only able to sit upright for about an hour. This means travel is no longer a part of my life, and any activity that requires prolonged time away from home – attending a show, a movie or other event – is out. I no longer attend in-person 12-step meetings, I have missed family reunions, weddings, births and funerals. I cannot travel to visit friends or relatives. As a result, many of these relationships have withered.
Through the process of acknowledging and grieving these losses, I’ve gradually learned to engage life in news ways. Thank goodness for video meetings! I was socializing regularly via Zoom pre-pandemic, but Covid brought the rest of the world to those of us who were already home bound. One of my local 12-step meetings moved online during Covid, and then elected to stay there. I have also found a wonderful spiritual discussion group which I attend several times a week. Although I’m gratefully well enough to occasionally meet in person with friends, when the weather’s rough, we gather online instead.
Video chats are often dismissed as being less satisfying than in-person gatherings. While I agree, I choose to focus on all that they do offer. They are more intimate than phone calls, certainly. In a sense, you’re inviting others into your home. They can see you in your element, even meet your pets. I also connect with people from around the world, whom I’d otherwise never have a chance to meet or get to know.
To the extent that I am able to get out for the occasional lunch, coffee, or grocery trip, I make a point of truly savoring the experience. I am energized by the stimulation of stepping beyond the four walls of my living room: the colors, sounds, voices, laughter, birds singing, the rustling of leaves – things I barely noticed before. I revel in the 3D presence of those sitting across from me at coffee. I realize that I love them, and bask in that glow. I choose the store’s cashier over automatic check-out, and enjoy our brief interaction.
I also remember to value those few who are closest, whom we tend to take for granted. I am blessed to have an understanding, supportive husband. It took a few years for him to truly empathize with my ordeal, but even prior to that, he was still there for me. My cat, too, is not just a dear pet, but another soul along for this wondrous journey. One summer when my only outdoor activity was sitting on the deck, the hummingbirds, butterflies and other small creatures visiting our flowers became near and dear to me. Thank you, little fairies and angels for your messages of hope and love!
Perhaps most important for my sense of belonging and connection is my spiritual life. When I was completely home bound last winter with a pain flare, I asked for signs that I would get through this. The signs always appeared, often in ways that left me with no doubt that I was loved and being guided. I also spent time praying for others. One aspect of loneliness and isolation for me has been the frustration of feeling of little use to others. But I realized I could always pray for those in crisis and need. I considered that my “work,” and still hold it to be an important part of my purpose.
As well as prayer, isolation from poor health provides plenty of time for contemplation. Rather than feeling that I am lonely and abandoned, I keep in mind that a life, or at least periods, of solitude have been embraced by many great seekers throughout time. It is an opportunity to turn inward, to look for greater truths without the distractions of human society, busy-ness and drama.
I continue to miss and sometimes still grieve the loss of the easy camaraderie of mingling in crowds, the spontaneity of accepting or initiating last minute invites, the sense of belonging at family gatherings, and the embrace of community that comes from simply being a local who is seen about town. But I have come to realize that I am still a vital and vibrant part of this world, of life.
Now that it’s acknowledged that even those without physical limitations often find themselves feeling adrift and alone, I see all the more how important it is for each of us to proactively find our own way of connecting, giving, loving and receiving in turn. Feeling alone is not being alone. You are never alone, you are never not loved. Connection may not look like it once did for you, and it may not look like it does for others. But our essence is love, and love will always find a way.
