Last week was mental health awareness week. I expect you already know that, there has been a lot of posting, publicity and even talking about it, and it’s fantastic to see people become increasingly open every year. It’s also a year since I publicly posted a blog for the first time ever, and wow, was that a revelation. Something else you probably know: the theme for this week was loneliness – a very, very important topic for anyone struggling with mental health, and something that I don’t think anyone has completely escaped over the last two years. Loneliness in itself is not a mental health issue of course, but the statistics around it being an indicator for greater risk of mental and physical health problems are a little terrifying, if not surprising – loneliness increases the risk of dying early by 26% according to a 2015 study.
It’s something I have talked and listened about a lot, I spent two years working for a project that aimed to address loneliness and isolation in people over 50, and something that stuck out at me was something the (rather brilliant) programme manager often said in introductions to talks and events – that she had not yet been old, but she had definitely been lonely. I think we have all felt it, even if only fleetingly, during the separations enforced by various lockdowns and rules and imposed by people’s differing levels of caution around contact. It’s been recognised as an issue for older people for a long time now, often people living alone, not working, less mobile so not able to get out by themselves – and it’s something I’ve increasingly heard about and understood among parents (mums, actually. I’m sure there are dads in a similar position and I’m not one for making a feminist statement for the sake of it, but personally I haven’t encountered any men who have admitted feeling like their life has shrunk to an endless cycle of providing food, getting up in the night, and playing ‘Elsa Castles’ eleventy-billion times. I’m also sure that almost all of them do all these things, it just doesn’t seem to take over their entire person-hood to the same extent, but I think that might be a whole other ramble.).
I was lonely a long time before being a parent, and a long time before being even a teenager (who also report increasing levels of loneliness, despite the endless possibilities for staying connected to one another), but I’m not here to complain about that. I’m also not really here to point out that loneliness is a symptom as well as a cause of poor mental health, though I don’t think I’ve known loneliness like that of the conviction that you cannot possibly explain what is filling your mind and pulling you to breaking point to a single other human because it just seems so utterly…well, insane and shameful. And it doesn’t matter how many people you talk to at work, have a drink with, even talk on some level about your life with, that loneliness is tinged with hopelessness and feels at the time rather impenetrable – the way out, of course is to talk, and you can’t so it becomes a painful feedback loop. I’ve wandered off on a tangent again, as I say, that’s not really what I’m here to talk about. What I thought I would talk about, is the people, places and the things that have made me feel less alone in darker times – they’re probably mostly obvious, but the gratitude I feel for these groups and individuals is immeasurable, and I undoubtedly would not still be here without some of them.
I guess I have to start at school – I was lonely here too – bullied for being new, then too posh, then too fat and occasionally too clever – but then I made friends with some people who actually wanted to know me and weren’t particularly fussed about ‘fitting in’ superficially. I don’t think you’re ever too young to recognise fake versus genuine, and I’m still close to some of these people, if sadly not geographically.
Music was one of the ‘things’ that made me feel less alone – it was a means of expression that I could share with others without having the awkwardness of a conversation or even having to particularly like one another – you have a common purpose, a set of directions on a page and you are individually but more importantly collectively focused on making a beautiful (ok, sometimes not all that beautiful, but the intention was there) sound. There are reports and studies showing that being ‘part of’ and contributing to something is more effective in combatting loneliness than simply going to things and seeing people, and I was lucky enough to learn this in a practical way early on. Running does something similar for me now – as part of a group, we encourage, support and care for each other and aim towards something we have in common – it isn’t quite the same, and actually I have a depth of relationship with some people I’ve met through running that definitely qualifies as some of the best friendships I have ever known – I don’t think I can thank running alone for that, it’s just that some pretty great people seem to be drawn to running clubs!
The next ‘thing’ (?) group, perhaps (?) felt a little shady at the time. It was the earlier days of online forums and communities, and I sort of hesitate to mention it because if anything when I think about it, it makes me feel further from the people in my ‘real’ life now and was at times a way of avoiding meaningful contact with people I really loved – but there were a couple of eating disorder forums that were the only possible place I could talk about some of the crazy shit that I was thinking (and doing) and know it would be understood. There were negative aspects to it, an occasional undercurrent of competition, ‘tips’ that could easily draw people deeper into something that was already very harmful and an element of de-personalisation that meant people didn’t always consider how others might respond before typing – but I think I’d have found most of it by myself anyway, and the trade-off was realising that a) what I was doing was real and b) while some of it was pretty shocking, taking the piss out of oneself and sharing it with people who would not be shocked took some of the drama and tension out of it all and gave me a sense of perspective, not to mention a good few ‘oh just get over yourself’ moments (this is something I need when I’m getting drawn into a spiral of negative thoughts and self-pity – I am definitely not suggesting anyone ‘just get over’ mental illness, it really does not work like that!).
I can’t leave out therapy, of course - Did I ever mention that TA saved my life..? Weird how I still feel conscious of stigma around this in a way I don’t any other aspect of mental health – probably my tendency to minimise my own experience and a general sense of ‘I don’t deserve this it wasn’t that bad’ contributes to this. I know this about myself, because I went to therapy. Even now, when I feel like there could hardly be any more to know and understand about my past, my character and how I interact with the world, I still feel it’s beneficial. Knowing there is an hour a week when I can inhabit feelings that don’t feel safe, talk to someone with no judgement at all, and focus on me and what I need with the guidance of another person saves me from going under sometimes – you’d be forgiven for thinking I spend a lot of time thinking about me and what I need if you’ve read any of this blog, but I promise I spend a lot more considering other people – and yeah, even that gets lonely sometimes, because it’s not just about being with someone else, it’s about being properly with yourself too – and if you can do that WITH someone alongside you, I think it’s actually impossible to feel lonely.
Work is another ‘thing’ – it’s the contribution aspect again, as well as the people. I’m incredibly lucky and I work with some incredible people, who genuinely love and support one another in every way, not just professionally, and I am beyond grateful for this (guess what, feeling unable to express and be myself in a job meant I felt really very lonely for a while – are you sensing a theme?). The churches I have worked and volunteered in also offered me genuine, unquestioning acceptance and a place I have felt safe. I will be forever grateful for one of these in particular, for my first very real experience of being loved and cared about completely independent of my parents and my ability to do things.
You might notice a conspicuous absence of family in the above love-letter to the people and activities that make me feel close to others and the world itself. I could go into this, but I should probably leave it for another day. Suffice to say, I finally did something this weekend that made me feel like a missing piece went into my jigsaw - I met my half-sister for the first time, and the understanding we felt for each other, having never spent time together was somehow unsurprising, but very...settling and peaceful. We had exchanged occasional messages, but the only thing we have really shared is the experience of being abandoned at a pre-conscious state by someone that set god knows how many people on a road to...well, loneliness. It didn't matter that this was all we really knew - and after an all too short weekend of genuine connection, I am pretty narked that she lives on the other side of the world... but we found something that I had always hoped existed, and it's been amazing to confirm that it does. It would also be wrong not to mention the family I chose for myself - my bright, hilarious, brave and outgoing daughter, and my husband who is the first person I have been convinced really loves me, and never, ever fails to appreciate me – but aside from these, family has been a mixed blessing and I kind of think it’s ok to articulate that, because the ‘lack’ of family who understood and wanted me as I was, is the main reason for long-term and acute loneliness. I’m sad about that, but mostly I’m not really lonely these days. And I’m very, very grateful for all the people that have helped in that journey
