Shadows and Solitude: Unpacking Our Loneliness

November 26th, 2023

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Before I started researching for this sermon, I had no idea that loneliness was such a timely topic. As it turns out, earlier this year the US Surgeon General released a report describing loneliness as an epidemic in our country. He detailed the many physical and mental health impacts loneliness has been found to have, and the issue is all over the media.

I suppose this is unsurprising, as this already worrying social trend was made far worse by isolation associated with COVID-19. Loneliness is, of course, characterized by the absence of real connection. It also has strong ties with grief, and these days there is so very much to grieve over.

I asked a lot of people from my circles this week if they would be willing to share their experiences of loneliness with me, and it was astounding how many people responded that they were struggling right now. Some of the situations they described included: estrangement or divorce from a partner, the death of a close loved one, moving to a new town and starting over, distance from family, lack of mobility or health-related isolation, and being so busy from work that they had no energy left to spend with others.

These barriers to connection are real, and they are not something that can be solved simply by trying harder, or even by learning to accept your circumstances. We feel lonely whether we choose to or not when we are grieving, homesick, or struggling to make ends meet.

That said, there are internal components to the state of chronic loneliness which are useful to poke around at.

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I actually went through some growing pains deciding what I wanted to say today. That’s because, in many ways, I am a “recovering” lonely person myself.

These days I have built up a lot of protective inner barriers which encourage me to pay attention to both all the good connections around me, and the enjoyable parts of solitude. These inner protections have become so reinforced that I spent most of the week fretting that I don’t have a present-day experience of loneliness to relate to. That is, until the story a friend was sharing shook something loose and I suddenly remembered a conversation I had with my therapist two years ago.

…and then, I remembered a lot of conversations with several therapists over the past six years.

I have spent so much time complaining to therapists that I’m lonely that that emotion alone has probably cost me a couple of thousand dollars. And here I was, thinking I had it all figured out!

It’s just that, my loneliness isn’t rational. Good connection is available to me everywhere. I’m aware that I’m profoundly privileged in this way. But it’s a fear that — apparently! — haunts me.

I remember back in the ninth grade, we were studying Beowulf and were given the assignment to create a drawing of our greatest fear, which we later burned. I drew one hand at the top of the page, letting go, and a second hand slipping into darkness at the bottom of the page. I titled the illustration, “Being Alone.”

Despite the fact that I had almost never actually been alone at that point in my life, despite the fact that most of my memories of solitude were of pleasant experiences like climbing trees and reading books, my greatest fear at that age was still “being alone.”

You see, as a child I did experience profound circumstantial loneliness. As we have discussed before, I was a weird kid. And loneliness, of course, isn’t actually about being alone but rather about lacking in positive connection. All day at school and extracurricular activities, I was surrounded by other kids - other kids who bullied and alienated me. My teachers also mostly found me annoying, so I went through each day surrounded by people who seemed as though they would be happier if I didn’t exist. It was terribly lonely!

My body learned that feeling, and even though my circumstances changed, that feeling stayed in my body.

Being lonesome is a profoundly threatening experience. Humans are social creatures. I strongly ascribe to the theory that our evolutionary advantage comes, not from competition, but from cooperation. In an animal sense, our lives literally depend on good connections with others.

Additionally, the neurochemical oxytocin, which is produced through interactions such as eye contact and hugging, counteracts the effects of the stress hormone cortisol — lowering blood pressure, reducing inflammation, and helping our sympathetic nervous systems return to a restful state. Lack of connection impacts us on a physical level.

I was so lonely growing up that I didn’t realized I was an introvert until I was in my 20s - because even introverts need a baseline level of human connection to keep us healthy, and age 23 was the first time I had enough positive social contact to discover that it could wear down my inner “battery.”

I’m not telling you this as a sob story, (I promise, I am okay!) but rather to give you context for the next part of the story. You see, once I had finally found my place socially, I still felt devastatingly lonely much of the time. And the first thing I had to do in order to take some of the sting out of that loneliness was to make friends with myself.

In dedicated work cultivating self-compassion and positive experiences of solitude, I began to heal some of the self-wounding processes which I had learned from the unkindness of others. At some point, I developed the habit of holding hands with myself, like this, for reassurance. And only when I stopped feeling so unworthy of connection on the inside could I begin to see how many opportunities there were to feel that deep connection with others.

I make it sound like this is a done deal - all healed! - but truly it’s not.

Loneliness is pervasive and it makes its way into our lives in many forms. According to Vivek Murthy, the Surgeon General, loneliness drastically increases people’s risk for alcoholism and other addictions. It’s an emotion that is so difficult to endure that it’s extremely common to turn to maladaptive methods to take the edge off. And I’m not just talking about drugs or alcohol - it can be anything that takes on an out-of-control role in our daily lives. Obsessively watching the news, or scrolling on our phones, or even overexercising can all take on the qualities of addiction as we seek to notice our own isolation less.

And in this way, loneliness is also self-perpetuating. Because these coping mechanisms have a way of starting to protect themselves - and before we know it, we are eschewing opportunities for connection in favor of one more podcast episode or our evening glass of wine in front of the TV.

It’s kind of like if your car was out of gas, and you didn’t have any gas available.

After a while, you might look around and notice that you did have a dozen gallons of leftover apple cider. So you fill up the gas tank with cider just to make the darn dashboard light go off. Eventually, when somebody is kind enough to drop by and give you a gas can, the tank is already full. There’s no space left for what you actually need, and you don’t know how to get rid of what you’ve been putting in there.

(Okay, this is an analogy, not an engineering lesson! Do not come to me after the service and tell me I’m wrong about cars.)

I’d invite you to spend some time this week considering whether there are ways that you’ve been filling your time which have become barriers to the connection that you crave. When might you choose to divert from habit and make space for presence?

We also tend to protect our coping mechanisms because on a certain level, they feel good. It can feel like an accomplishment to have taken care of the problem on your own. Problem solved, I’m functioning! Not a burden to anyone! It doesn’t help that this type of individualistic self-actualization is heavily rewarded in mainstream American culture.

It’s vulnerable to admit that we need one another; that we can’t really combat loneliness without other people. It’s almost like admitting defeat, especially if we’ve been coping maladaptively for a long time. This is further complicated by the fact that once we start letting people in, we often still feel lonely.

If you’ve been dutifully reaching for connection and asking for help, but on some level your loneliness is unresolved, one reason is likely that truly deep and reciprocal connection is non-transactional. And as long as your interactions with another person are based on you needing them to help you feel better, your relationship is partially transactional.

Argh! So I can’t feel better by myself, but if I ask someone for help, our interactions become transactional and won’t be entirely fulfilling. What the heck am I supposed to do??

Well, you take the energy and connection that are being offered, regardless of their lack of completeness, and you use that energy to fuel your work on yourself. Once you no longer need people to make you feel better, but they are simply a part of your life, the paradox resolves itself.

While there are things that we can do to combat loneliness by ourselves and in relationship with one another, there are certain kinds of loneliness which have no answer. I’m thinking in particular of the type we feel when we are missing a particular special person. These feelings can get really acute around the holidays, which can be rife with memories as well as reminders of happy gatherings in the community around us.

When missing someone we’ve lost launches us into loneliness, there is no amount of work which can make that feeling disappear. As with all types of loneliness, other people’s advice and attempts to “fix” the feeling only serve to make us feel worse.

Friends, if you know somebody who is going through this, there is actually something you can do to help. Listen. Allow their feeling to be witnessed and acknowledged. The best way to ease loneliness is not seeking solutions, but simply being present.

If you find yourself lonely this season, do your best to try not to cover it up with distractions. Keep yourself open to connection, and give those around you avenues to engage with you. And talk about it. The more we all remain in open conversation about our experiences of loneliness, the less taboo it will become. There is no shame in admitting we need connection - and doing so saves lives.

Thank you for choosing connection this morning.

Copyright 2023 Miranda (Bran) Lennox