Loneliness is a doorway
Learning my way around loneliness
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A song I’ve been enjoying:
“When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.” Elizabeth Gilbert
I’ve been lonely for a while. Perhaps it’s the pandemic, or being pregnant for most of 2021 and then having a newborn, or navigating this completely different body and life with less support than I probably need, or having less capacity to reach out… maybe it’s all of it. What I know for sure is that loneliness has been lingering just underneath my skin for a while, and it seems to be coming to the surface now — coming up for air so I can really take a look at it, really feel it, really notice what it might be trying to tell me. I don’t want to. And I am. It’s hard. And it’s necessary.
Loneliness was, at one point, something I didn’t think I was supposed to feel. There was a tinge of shame around it, like something was wrong with me if I felt lonely. My whole childhood was colored by loneliness, though. I held so much within my brain and body that no one saw because I didn’t think any of it was supposed to be there. Hiding felt like protection, yet hiding only amplified the aloneness I felt. How precious our young selves were, doing everything they possibly could to try and keep us from feeling hurt, from feeling afraid, from feeling pain.
I know there is nothing wrong with feeling loneliness now. I know it’s such a natural byproduct of the society we live in, the pressures we put on ourselves to have it all together (as if that’s what we actually expect from anyone other than ourselves), the rat race we’re forced to participate in in some manner, the lack of time and space we have to cultivate and nurture relationships, the trauma and stories and conditioning we’re unlearning in order to allow people in… there is so much at play that makes loneliness easy to come by. But knowing why something exists is different than letting ourselves feel it without shame. And when I find myself in seasons of loneliness, part of me still wonders if I’m the only one — if anyone else finds themselves in the pit of aloneness, even when they aren’t alone — if I’m the lone person who hasn’t yet figured out how to banish loneliness forever (I’m giggling as I type this because this is how delusional we can become in the depths of our own discomfort).
Lately, I’m trying to hold loneliness in my palm with compassion and curiosity. I’m trying to allow it to point me toward what I might need next — whether to reach out to someone, or go connect with nature, or unravel from a story keeping me from seeing myself clearly. I’m trying to allow my loneliness before rushing to numb or hide from it (my break from Instagram is helping with this). I’m trying to notice it, listen to it, really hear it and follow the thread back to myself. I’m trying to see it as a magnifier of what matters to me instead of something getting in the way of myself.
When I let loneliness be a doorway instead of a barrier, it becomes more than just something hard to face. It becomes a teacher, a wise guide, a mirror, a map, an inroad to myself. Loneliness is a lifelong companion we’ll all face and feel in different ways, yet it becomes a whole lot less scary when we allow it to be what it is, when we don’t pressure ourselves to make it go away, and when we accept it — in order to face and shift it. More often than not, loneliness is a sign that I feel a bit far away from myself, and that is definitely the case during this season of life. My true self just feels a little distant, a little buried, a little hidden. And I am willing to dig, to rediscover, to find and to get to know who is emerging. Letting loneliness be what’s true instead of making it a marker of being bad makes that digging and discovery a little easier.
Loneliness is a doorway to noticing our needs.
Loneliness is a doorway to being honest with ourselves.
Loneliness is a doorway to facing what’s true.
Loneliness is a doorway to cultivating our wants.
Loneliness is a doorway to asking for help, for care.
Loneliness is a doorway to changing what needs changing.
Loneliness is a doorway to accepting what can’t be changed.
Loneliness is a doorway to listening to ourselves.
Loneliness is a doorway to what needs shifting outside of us.
Loneliness is a doorway to finding deeper alignment with who we are.
When we let loneliness be more than something hard, it can show us what we might be missing, what we might be calling in, what we might be longing for. And when we figure out what those things are, we have much more choice in what to do next.
SOME THINGS I DO WHEN I FEEL EXTRA LONELY
- Listen to a really good playlist with songs tinged with nostalgia, longing, sweet melancholy and spark (hi, I’m an enneagram 4)
- Go for a walk and remember nature is always there when we let it be
- Connect with someone who feels like home
- Read a book that I can immerse myself in
- Sign up for a fun-sounding class or workshop to look forward to
- Change my environment: rearrange, reorganize, redecorate, redo.
- Make a list of things I’d like to do with people when the timing is right
- Reminisce on favorite memories of togetherness, connection, and camaraderie
- Stop pushing it away with distraction and trust I can tolerate it
- Snuggle with my baby, partner, or cats — sometimes all at once
- Make a special drink that feels like a treat
- Trust that my loneliness is nothing to be ashamed of
- Do something to connect to myself: write, meditate, walk, sit, create, be.
- Get out into the world, whether it’s perusing a local bookshop or taking a walk downtown — putting myself in the way of community
- Explore what I might be needing, wanting, and desiring
- Notice where things might feel out of alignment
- Let myself feel it; let it run its course; let it tell me what it needs to tell me
May we stop trying to cover up our loneliness with temporary solutions, and instead let ourselves fully be with it so we can notice what we’re actually needing.
May we trust that loneliness isn’t a personal flaw, weakness, or failure.
May we allow loneliness to teach us what we might want more of.
May we let in compassion, care, connection, and community.
May we stop beating ourselves up for feeling lonely sometimes.
May we know we’re not the only ones, that it isn’t our fault, that nothing is wrong.
May we remember our capacity to invite in the things we’re seeking.
May we immerse ourselves in life so as to let our aliveness point toward what matters.
May we let loneliness be there when it is, and let it pass when it passes.
May we hold ourselves with compassion and care in the meantime.
I’m ignoring the voice telling me this needs to have some greater conclusion. I’m off to go for a stroll a few towns north with my family. Be gentle with yourself. Make yourself something that feels like a treat today. Stretch. Connect. Feel your feet on the earth. And know that however you may find yourself today, you’re not alone.
△ This made me laugh… does anyone remember Wishbone?!
△ An essay about the power of anticipation
△ This gorgeous conversation with Jenny Odell
△ These words from Ursula Le Guin
△ Mary Oliver, as always
△ Beautiful words on daydreaming
△ The brilliant adrienne maree brown
With care,
Lisa
We think if we’re experiencing loneliness then there’s something wrong with us. When really it’s a normal part of the human experience, especially in this time of constant “busyness” and disconnection from community. Thank you so much for this reminder. ❤️
Thank you for normalizing this. So often we think of loneliness as something that needs to be “fixed” when, really, it’s a teacher. It’s showing us what matters to us.