On feeling lonely

How to change the narrative

Good morning. How are you doing?

Reference: Alain de Botton, School of Life

Most Saturday nights I find myself on a night-bus home from a pub on the outskirts of London that a friend chose to celebrate their birthday in for some reason. Usually I enjoy these journeys as it gives me a chance to think and watch the world go by from the window. However this weekend on another night-bus home, as I made my way up to the top deck I noticed that nearly every other woman was lovingly wrapped around a partner, except me. A funny, old sensation began to rise up in me and I suddenly realised I was feeling lonely.

Feeling alone can come in many forms, romantic loneliness being only one of them. People can feel unseen and unvalued whilst in marriages, friendships or amongst their family. Grieving can be lonely, carving out your own career path can be lonely, having health difficulties or looking after an unwell family member can be lonely, struggling with body image can be lonely, worrying about money can be lonely. Any experience can be isolating if it feels like other people can’t easily understand what it is you’re going through.

One approach that I find useful when thinking about loneliness is that of Alain de Botton’s from the School of Life. De Botton noted that it feels worse to be alone on a Saturday night than a Monday night. Although the physical reality of the days is the same, the narrative is entirely different. The difference between spending Saturday night or Monday night by ourselves, is what we think it means to be alone at those times. We wouldn’t feel embarrassed to tell a work colleague that we are making ourselves dinner and going to bed on a Monday evening, but to say we have no plans scheduled for Saturday could make us sound undesirable or worthy of pity. From this, De Botton concludes that being alone is bearable in relation to how ‘normal’ it feels to us.

With clients I like to better understand what their narratives are about spending time alone as it can be useful to explore the stories that have been internalised along the way. Some questions for you to consider your own narrative:

• What is the physical feeling that comes up in you when alone? Is it frightening, painful, boring, peaceful?

• Do you gain energy from being with other people, or do you recharge alone?

• Growing up was your house busy and full of people, or quiet? What was that like for you?

• What narratives about being alone have you inherited from your family or upbringing?

With the longer days of summer creating an illusion that everyone else has packed out diaries full of endless invitations to barbecues and villas in France, I hope you can remember that society has warped our brains to believe this is the case. The reality is that we are all self-conscious animals who fear exclusion, and from time to time we all experience solitude. The good news is that we have choice in the stories we tell about ourselves or narratives we adopt, and through this lens we can re-think what it means to be alone.

You are more loved and thought about than you realise.

Speak soon,

Adelaide

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