There’s a fairly
well-to-do woman in her early 60s living underneath me, who keeps ‘accidentally
running into me’ when I exit the lift. Her favourite thing to do when she
pounces is to run through an ever-changing litany of complaints, which may
include: the way the man living on the level above me waters his plants (too
overflowy!), the jazz music the pub down the street plays on Sunday afternoons
(too jazzy!), a water pipe between my unit and hers (God knows what her issue
is with that – it’s not even leaking). Eventually I figured out her complaints
are not borne of dissatisfaction but a more powerful and very dangerous emotion
– loneliness.
Research shows that loneliness
is as ruinous to your health as smoking. It raises your blood pressure and
cholesterol, suppresses your immunity (making you vulnerable to disease) and increases
your risk of heart disease, because your body is under constant stress.
It’s estimated that
more than 40 per cent of us will feel the pang of loneliness at some point. And
being in a long-term relationship is no protection – research shows
that more than 60 per cent of lonely people are married. I can’t imagine
the misery of being in a relationship with someone you feel disconnected from.
The common thread
that underpins loneliness is a lack of connection. That might be
geographic – moving to a city far away from your loved ones, for example – or
it might be emotion driven – feeling like your friends don’t understand you, or
that everyone around you is having different experiences to you (such as having
children when you’re unable to).
For me personally,
the threat of loneliness has always been far more damaging than the emotion
itself. Being an introvert, I’m actually pretty content with solitude. But the
idea that having only myself for company could be enforced rather than a choice
has, at times, gripped me with terror. This has resulted in some poor choices –
going out on dates with men who bore me, remaining friends with people who I
have nothing in common with, to name two.
This fear is not as
strong for me now because as I’ve grown older I’ve come to understand that being alone does not equate to being lonely.
And at an age where most people’s social networks are reducing as they focus
more on their family units, I’ve made a conscious effort to expand my circles
of friends, because I’ve realised how much these connections add to my life.
This includes volunteer work at retirement homes, joining a social club and,
yes, this blog – which has made me realise I have a great deal in common with a
great deal of people. I think, too, that becoming more comfortable with being
myself has helped me connect with people on a deeper level while also
developing an awareness that isolation is really an illusion.
For all these reasons
I don’t give my whingeing neighbour the brush-off, although I can’t say
spending time with her is a joy. And I’m not sure that me feigning interest in
her chatter out of a sense of obligation is beneficial to her. But I try to
keep in mind that loneliness is a miserable emotion and it can make us do unhealthy and unhelpful things – like complain
(which tends to repel people). I can only hope that having some understanding
of the mechanics of loneliness will help me to be more proactive about taking
steps to prevent it when I get to her age and beyond.