An Imaginary Friend at Christmas!

Loneliness is not solitude. Solitude requires being alone, whereas loneliness shows itself most sharply in company with others.

~ Hannah Arendt

It's the afternoon of Christmas day! As I sit and occasionally look out of the window I am struck by the stillness of the world outside. I don't see anyone walking along the street nor do I see any cars. It feels like a place and time in a post-apocalyptic and dystopian future world. The view is foggy. The silence is deafening. The absence of any signs of life is ominous. Yet this moribund state is not a true reflection of the day. Whilst there will be many who are alone there are many more who are spending time with friends and family. I can only imagine the lovely food, the paper hats and crappy cracker jokes (does someone actually get paid to come up with those!?).

It's not even clear to me how I feel today. I knew Christmas was coming and that I would be spending a few days on my own. I made an effort on Saturday to go to some events to try and maximise the hours of human contact on that day. I saw this as a way of filling up with as much human connection fuel as my emotional tank could accommodate. My theory was that, the more human contact I could immerse myself in, the longer I would be able to keep going over the Christmas void. It would take longer for the effects of being on my own to start to have a negative impact. Normally, after an overdose of socialising, I almost always need time to recharge anyway, so even if it wasn't Christmas, I wouldn't yet be looking for any further dose of social activity. I think I've still got enough fuel in the tank to last me for Boxing day. After that, I know I will start to feel some desperation to connect again, even if at least on a superficial level.  

Hannah Arendt, an American-Jewish philosopher, wrote about loneliness, isolation and solitude. I think it's useful to note some distinctions in the meanings of these words. She said that "Solitude is that human situation in which I keep myself company. Loneliness comes about when I am alone without being able to split up into the two-in-one, without being able to keep myself company". Arendt distinguished isolation from loneliness, saying that it was "Destructive of power and the capacity for action". Loneliness is a feeling. It represents an emotion arising from an unmet need to be connected with others but not being able to do so. Feeling lonely is a craving to connect with others on a meaningful level but being disconnected and alone. It is not important whether one is physically on their own or surrounded by many others; I find I am often surrounded by people but still feel completely disconnected and lonely.

 Hannah Arendt

 

Isolation is different to loneliness as it represents a circumstance and not a feeling. It is a physical disconnection rather than an emotional one. During the Covid-19 lockdowns we were told we had to isolate, to keep ourselves to ourselves and to not spend time with others. Not being with others meant we were physically isolated. Our need for human connection was impacted. As social animals this caused us problems as it made us miserable and dysfunctional. The social cohesion that is the essence of our existence was impaired. Of course, we still had our mobiles, Instas and Facebooks, and along came Zoom, and whilst these provided a way to reduce the feelings arising from isolation, they were not a panacea for the quality and depth of human connection that can only be experienced in real life. Looking at someone's image on a screen or giving them a virtual hug can never replace a real gaze into their eyes or the tactile sensation of their warm embrace.

Solitude is a positive conscious choice. It maintains balance on the social interaction scale. I may go to a bunch of meetups, feel emotionally and physically fatigued as a result, and then choose to spend a couple of days on my own to rebuild my resources. I may equally choose to stay in on my own rather than go out as, on some occasions, I might just prefer my own company, have some thinking to do, want to watch something on TV, go on the internet or read something. Loneliness, on the other hand, is not a choice, and neither is isolation. It is entirely possible to be lonely but not isolated, and it is equally possible to be isolated but not feel lonely. I was at a social event surrounded by people a few nights ago but couldn't strike up conversation or establish any rapport with anyone at all and felt very lonely. I've just been writing this post for my blog over the past couple of hours and, despite there not being even a hint of human life visibly or audibly anywhere around me, have somehow not felt as lonely as I did earlier. I feel as if I am actually talking to you, the reader! I am experiencing the state of solitude rather than loneliness at this point in time.  

The subject of feeling alone and discombobulated (I've been dying to use that word in my blog since I started writing it!) at social events, and in life in general, came up at some psychotherapy sessions a few years ago. The therapist at the time suggested I try a technique which she described as having a conversation with an imaginary friend. She explained I should create a mental image of this illusory friend and actually talk to them out loud as if they were physically present. A question arises: isn't this the same as talking to oneself? To an observer, yes, it would appear no different. But if, in my mind, I am talking to someone else then I cannot be talking to myself. The fact that they don't exist doesn't change the fact that I am talking to them! Ok, it's a bit of a grey area! Maybe we can dissect it over a cup of tea. Who am I talking to now?

Spending Christmas on my own means doing so in isolation and for me it is a fundamentally lonely experience. However, the fuel tank is still half full (notice the optimism!) and so has some mileage to see me through a bit longer. Whatsmore, there is a smidgeon of respite from a bit of the loneliness which has been replaced by solitude: on the receiving end of this blog post I feel as if I have an imaginary reader who I am "talking" to. Perhaps my therapist wasn't cranky after all!

The Existential Threat Posed By Social Events

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.

Finding Your People

At a recent Talk & Listen session one of the attendees, who I shall call Julie, shared with the group that she missed having a close knit circle of friends. She explained that when she was living abroad for the past two years, she'd found people that she really connected with and with whom she shared her life with. She said that she felt there was a bond between them, that they had fabulous times together and that she felt she could talk to them about anything. She described that, since she'd been back in England from around six months ago, she'd not found such people that she could connect with on the same level. This lack of friends made her feel miserable. She just wanted to "find her people" as she put it. 

A number of listeners took it in turns to offer some feedback. They acknowledged her feeling of sadness of not being able to see and spend time with her old friends and her frustration in not having found the friends that she needed since returning to this country. Someone reflected back the feeling of loneliness that Julie had expressed. This is the third time during the past couple of weeks that I have heard people talk about feeling lonely. I am generally hearing this more and more. This could be because I am coming across more people that are feeling this way, or it could be because people are somehow more inclined to expressely open up to some of their vulnerabilities. 

I have begun to question what it means when someone says they feel lonely. I myself feel this way and so I can empathise with the feelings invoked by circumstances giving rise to them. But what are the circumstances? I have concluded that it cannot simply be not having people around us. I have heard people say that they are surrounded by people, such as work colleagues, family members, people at a party and other gatherings, but they still feel lonely. I've heard words used such as isolated, dejected, unaccepted, unappreciated, invisible. So loneliness is not a symptom of not having people around us. It is a symptom of not having people in our lives that we feel connected to.

In order to connect I think we need to be authentic. To be authentic means taking risks. We need to open up to vulnerability, embrace who we are and not expend energy in trying to be who we are not. We just need to be ourselves and be able to say we are good enough. If we put on a mask to present a false version of ourselves in order to attract people with the aim of making friends, then the resulting friendships will be based on foundations that will quickly and easily crumble as soon as the real version of ourselves begins to emerge. Authenticity is what allows us to be accepted for who we really are. It brings empathy into the connections we establish with others. It allows us to "find our people".