Coming to Grips with The Terrible Pain of Loneliness

Feeling lonely or know someone who is? Read on.

“Ah, look at all the lonely people.”

Eleanor Rigby — The Beatles © 1966

I first came face to face with loneliness when I was in second grade, and it scared the living daylights out of me.

Although I didn’t know what it was at the time, seeing it played out for the first time gouged such a deep, grief-filled memory in me that I couldn’t talk about it for decades without my eyes filling with tears.

You see, up until that encounter, I’d had no previous experience with the concept of loneliness.

Growing up in the 1960s with four siblings in a primarily Catholic working-class neighborhood amongst families even larger than mine, I can’t recall ever being alone, much less lonely. We kids could easily round up two teams for a game of kickball, recruit others to play hopscotch or touch football with, or find someone to accompany us to school or to the store any time we wanted.

On Hallowe’en evening, our street bustled with so many trick-or-treaters that parents didn’t need to escort us from house to house for their children’s safety as they do today. We traveled in packs.

So it strikes me as ironic that my introduction to loneliness occurred shortly after, and because of, Hallowe’en.

I was walking home from school with a classmate on a brisk early November afternoon when she approached us — an elderly woman neither of us knew nor had seen before. I don’t know why she talked to us; maybe it was because the three of us just happened to be on the same corner at the same time, waiting for the stoplight to change so we could cross. I just remember that she seemed very old to me.

And what she said to us.

“I live in that apartment over there, above the barbershop,” she said, pointing to the house kitty-corner from where we stood. “I had my light on for Hallowe’en, but no children came.” After a pause, she added in a sad, shaky voice, “I had apples and candy for the children, but no one came.”

The effect her words had on seven-year-old me was immediate and profound.

I could picture her sitting in a chair on Hallowe’en evening, bowls filled with candy and apples on a table near the door, waiting…waiting. Maybe tears trickled from her elderly eyes as she began to realize that none of the costumed children would come up the stairs in search of treats from her. Maybe she left the hall light on as long as possible, in hopes that at least one group of kids would find her.

All I knew was that this was the saddest thing I had ever heard.

I tearfully related the story to my mother when I got home that day. I think she tried to assure me that probably the kids on the woman’s street had been unaware that anyone lived above the barbershop, so how would they know to go there?

I remained inconsolable. I mean, what if I got old and people didn’t know where I lived?

For years, I feared loneliness more than death.

As it turns out, I had good reasons for doing so, as one can lead to the other.

The negative effects of loneliness are well documented. While pretty much everyone feels lonely from time to time, prolonged periods of loneliness can have major health consequences, leading to an increased risk of everything from dementia and Alzheimer’s disease to heart failure.

I wasn’t aware of the health consequences of loneliness when I set out to make it my life’s mission, or at least one of them, to create a non-lonely life. All I knew was that I didn’t like what loneliness felt like. It frightened and depressed me.

As I wrote about in a previous article, I took action to banish loneliness from my life as much as possible.

By this I don’t mean that I never have “alone time”; time by myself allows me to recharge, write without interruption, read voraciously, and catch up on more routine tasks like paying bills and scheduling appointments. I enjoy solitary walks, and listening to music when I drive. I greatly value time spent by myself.

But I also devote time to ensuring that I regularly interact with others.

If I don’t hear from certain people in a while, I call or text them to see if and when we can get together. I both schedule and accept breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates with family members and friends. I’ve had fabulous “girls’ weekends,” memorable volunteer experiences, and memberships in clubs and organizations that have hosted informative, captivating speakers, fun activities, and great food.

I learn, love, laugh, and live more fully because of the people in my life, and have been blessed with a wonderful extended family and many friends. I also think I have a more positive attitude when it comes to people in general because my positive interactions with others tend to neutralize, or at least counterbalance, all the negative news we’re subjected to daily.

I really can’t remember the last time I felt lonely.

I didn’t cry as I wrote this.

I am finally able to retell the story of the old woman and Hallowe’en without my eyes welling with tears as they once did. Perhaps that’s because I now understand that I was meant to learn the lesson she unknowingly taught me on that nippy November day decades ago…that loneliness happens to us only if we allow it to.

Yes, the COVID pandemic has made keeping loneliness at bay difficult, if not impossible, at times, as do the ever-expanding opportunities for people to work from home full-time. Addiction to technology, especially among younger users, has also been linked to feelings of social isolation. So I realize that multiple forces might come into play that can contribute to how disconnected we feel.

In fact, maybe that’s why I’m writing about this now — it seems to me that it’s more important than ever for us to take and make the time to connect with others, and to treat this as a priority in our lives, for the sake of our own emotional, and even physical, well-being.

So if you’re feeling lonely, I encourage you to reach out. Make that call or send that text. Choose not to wait for the trick-or-treaters to find you.

Create your own non-lonely life.

This article is not meant to be a substitute for qualified mental health information. If you’ve been experiencing prolonged feelings of isolation and depression, SAMHSA’s (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Association) National Helpline is a free, confidential, 24/7, 365-day-a-year treatment referral and information service (in English and Spanish).1–800–662-HELP (4357).

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