Loneliness. A difficult subject for most humans. It may be hard to describe or even admit it within yourself. In the world we are in, pain of aloneness has become an epidemic. It is present in people of every age, class and race. Loneliness can kick you in the ass, paralyze you with longing, and seep into your soul, whether you are by yourself or surrounded by adoring fans. Loneliness is a grief that comes in many forms—death of a beloved, estrangement, geography, age.
Every minute of the day filled with activity, work, or endless social engagements cannot cover over an empty hole of loneliness. We may use television, social media, constant noise, or substances to block out the pain. Sometimes we simply return to a codependent or even a violent relationship just so we will not have to feel so alone. But of course, all this does is increase a sense of isolation, fear and a probable rerun of the past.
For a survivor, neither family, religion, nor situation may have ever fit for you, especially as a result of abuse. In fact, if you looked inside, beneath the clutter of imposed shoulds and should nots, (don't talk, don't ask, don't you dare...), you may have used whatever it took to have some shred of connection. Perhaps being honest could have destroyed the flimsy semblance of connection, especially if lies or silence instead of truth protected a more palatable narrative.
There is another component that can compound the sense of aloneness. A history of neglect is one of the heaviest realities for a survivor. Neglect is most true when family, friends, or partners failed to see you or what was happening in plain sight. Maybe your safety depended on your love or loyalty, and was given only marginally—and only if the lie or silence remained. Maybe this invisibility insisted that transpiercing honesty would ensure you as the casualty—your truth denied, or even demonized.
Perhaps the premise you are left with is that your place in this world cannot matter unless you forfeit yourself. The fallout from this kind of abandonment is what you neglect inside yourself. It can evolve into a lifestyle. You may be conditioned to repeat these kinds of toxic connections again and again, because it is all you know. You may burn when there are no apologies or accountability, no matter how many times you have tried to be heard. But sometimes you continue with the same relationships anyway in order to ensure some place for yourself--or perhaps simply to survive.
What can often ensue is an insidious and undeserved shame that you have no value unless you perform a version of yourself that is not you. You might withdraw altogether, giving up on any potential for any meaningful relationship.
You reject any false positivity, platitudes that do not comfort, or simplistic remedies that do not deliver and never help, still searching to find a home and a space to heal. Perhaps it is why you are reading this blog.
Yet you may have already considered another perspective to the complexity of loneliness. You reconsider a deepened appreciation of the difference between loneliness and solitude, and perhaps a new way of being with yourself and with others. It may require a courageous grappling with complicated and perhaps conflicting feelings inside, so that you can risk being connected again, not as a distraction from yourself, but as a more authentic way to love and be loved.
There is also something to be said about moving through the lonely places and stepping into solitude to heal. In fact, it is essential. Solitude is keeping specific and important company with yourself. This might be more difficult if you are an extravert and depend on the energy of others, even the toxic ones, to fill the space inside. If you are an introvert, being alone may be comforting and restorative, but this is distinctly different from isolation. Solitude means honoring the pain of loss, the depth of longing, and wisdom that you have garnered in your lifetime, without beating yourself up or smallifying into seclusion. Solitude can bring gifts of appreciation for all the ways you connect with yourself and life itself. Consider quiet, nature, eating a solitary meal with only you as company to nourish the heart, even if the exercise is uncomfortable or even difficult at first.
There are other ways to find a way out of loneliness. Pleasantries cannot cover the sheer longing inside to truly connect, but this is not to say that every single interaction with another must be profound or even consequential. There is solace in small talk, joking with strangers, kindness offered on subways and streets. Sometimes just the simplest human contact with a stranger can fill the heart: the cashier, the sanitation engineer, that funny little puppy, the old lady in line with her beet greens. JS Park calls it "breaking breath" together, moments when you are seen—and as importantly, when you truly can see an other.
As you bridge across the human divide, I invite you find new ways to connect, to discover unusual gifts inside as you open to what and who is possible. Connection is not always experienced with words. True connection can be held in silence. The first step may be in situations or communities you would least expect. It can be a look, a touch, or an acknowledgement without a single word spoken.
Finding your way out of loneliness may be discovering that unique quality inside yourself that you recognize and respect. Then it may mean being kinder to your self, more curious about experimenting with what you know, or perhaps do not know about yourself—and surprisingly what you discover about others.
But coming from your own authentic place, no matter how messy or unknown, may be the most important gift inside to finding true connection.
Without a single thought, two hands collide and the world finally makes sense again.
⎯Kayla Dawn
¹Park, J. (2024). As Long as it Takes: Permission to grieve.