Sometimes being surrounded by everyone is the loneliest, because you’ll realise you have no one to turn to.
~ Soraya, Astrologer & Reiki Practitioner
If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.
~ Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper, 2004
People think I’m odd, so I know how it feels to be different, and I know how lonely that can be.
~ Beauty and the Beast, Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve
I'd not ventured beyond my front door for three days. I needed some real-life human contact. Over the past few months, at times like these, I have been going online to look for something to do to satisfy such needs. I don't have friends I can just call up to meet up with or even just to have a chat with. Occasionally, I might ring my bank's call centre pretending I want to check a transaction just to have some brief conversation! I might also ring an emotional support helpline if I am particularly troubled. I spent quite a long time on the telephone seeking some respite from Samaritans on Saturday night. To actually meet people, though, I've been using websites such as Meetup, Eventbrite and Facebook. And so it was that yesterday I found myself scrolling through "events" on Meetup and Eventbrite to find somewhere to go where I might encounter human beings who I could just talk to. I found an event which was described as a social evening to meet new people with whom to walk around Shoreditch looking at street art. This sounded like just what I needed!
My mood needed a pre-event shift somehow or another. I'd been cooped up alone in a sea of depression for three days and needed to move up a few notches on the sociability scale. I would need to present myself as a friendly, likeable and approachable character whilst sticking to my values of authenticity, the desire to just "be the real me". Despite an inner fragility I arrived at the scene in pleasant mood and, to the best of my knowledge, welcoming body language with energy to mingle and interact. This was the whole point of even turning up to this "social evening to meet new people"! There was quite a crowd already gathered when I arrived. I spotted someone on his own just looking at his mobile. I thought he might appreciate some company and so I didn't hesitate in just going up to him and saying hello. He looked up at me momentarily and, without speaking, just resumed looking at his mobile. I immediately felt my mood taking a shift in the wrong direction of the scale. This had such an effect on me that it set a scene of foreboding for the rest of the evening.
We all stood around waiting to get started on the walk. I managed to somehow pretend to myself that I felt absolutely fine and unfazed and that the evening would facilitate the anticipated social interactions. A quick hand wave from the organiser signalled we were now on the move. We set off on a journey that was to unfold over the next couple of hours with all the emotional complexities arising from social anxiety that it would entail. I quickly realised that I was not even noticing the surroundings as we walked along, a column of people moving along the streets of east London, with me lost in my own world somewhere within the final third of the procession. I looked up and around. It seemed everyone was in pairs or small groups of three or four and, amongst all these fellow walkers, I found that I was on my own, with just my own thoughts and insecurities for company. This wasn't the point of joining a group activity. I had to talk to someone!
Attempting to shift gear, mentally and physically, I made an effort to engage with some of those around me. I tried various permutations of conversation starter that sprung to mind, which ranged from a simple "hello", to comments about art, the streets of Shoreditch or what attracted people to the event. Response was short and superficial, if even there was a response at all. Some people seemed reluctant to venture out from within their mini social bubble or were too deep in their contemplation of art, life or the universe. Or maybe there were deficiencies in my social skills; maybe my vibe was being perceived as decidedly off kilter. At times of despair in social situations, as soon as I am faced with the notion that I have nothing left to lose, I resort to nuclear options within my social armoury. There would be no more lame "hellos" or "that's a nice shade of blue on that bit of graffiti" to get the party started.
I made a beeline towards a woman who appeared to have momentarily separated from the pack. "Do you think Schrodinger's cat poses an existential threat to humanity?". Unfazed by her look of bewilderment I turned to a guy next to me and exclaimed that I'd had some taramosalata and pitta bread that afternoon and asked whether he'd had anything to eat before coming out that evening. I might as well have been speaking in Mandarin. I gate-crashed a party of four and introduced the concept that each electron has a twin spinning in the opposite direction billions of light years away. Nope, that didn't get much of a reaction either. I've noticed in many social situations when several "normal" attempts to start some sort of conversation fail I seem to resort to avant-garde all-or-nothing tactics. I think I do this in the belief that nothing works for me anyway. By the time I get to this turning point I think I've given up on connecting with anyone, so I think I act in a way more for my own personal amusement than anything else. It's a temporary respite from the underlying pain of rejection.
The walk came to an end. I hadn't paid any attention to any street art, apart from some graffiti where I noticed a pleasing hue of blue, which I pointed out to someone only to be met with indifference at the time. The group started to disband, saying their goodbyes and heading off into the night in different directions whilst I looked on. I was a little bit lost, both in my thoughts and my location, and stood motionless looking around expecting answers to appear before me. Suddenly, it started to rain; I had no umbrella. The trouble with this situation, as a myopic bespectacled individual, is that everything just starts to feel really shit. So there I was, by now alone, somewhere in the dark, wet expanse of this part of the city. I hadn't even come close to any human connections; the "social" event had been an unmitigated disaster. I was too emotionally numb to discern whether I was alive or dead inside. I was Schrodinger's cat; isolated, lost, and soaked in an existential paradox.
I just needed to find my way home; I still had some taramosalata left in the fridge. And that could be followed with tea and crumpet with Morello cherry jam. Maybe there was some point to life after all, albeit consolatory.
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