Loneliness: the fickle pickle
Loneliness is a funny thing. Frankly, it’s quite difficult to write about — especially being someone who’s generally an extrovert and has a fairly solid group of people around him. But there’s a distinct difference between the perception of social fulfillment/happiness and actual loneliness. Bear with me, I’ll walk you through it.
The transition from early-twenties-Taylor to mid-twenties-Taylor has been a surprising one. Dawning the new era, things like aimlessly wandering from bar to bar, or driving more than 30 minutes for a social activity, has become less and less appealing. There also seemed to be a clear divide between groups of friends that once moved as one unit on not only preference of social activity, but general life path, as well. Older adults like to call this “maturing,” but I think that has too much of a positive undertone. This transition is brutal; not only have certain people I’d have thought would be life-long friends disappeared, but I went from not wanting to let a moment of daylight go by unused (whether that be social outings or just general activity) to opting for a delay of plans so I can get in a nap after coming home from work.
Tiring more quickly and changes in social groups aren’t to blame, though, and they’re certainly not abnormal. Things like that come and go — especially the preferred method of social adventure. But when we now factor in that those of us who chose to stick together seemingly out of no where have 8–10 hours of our day hacked away for full time jobs, it limits the number of “free” hours that were once plentiful. And those of us who take that a step further, like myself, even sometimes fill those limited number of “free” hours with freelance projects or side-jobs. Again, not to blame exclusively, since those after-hours commitments are optional. I knowingly skipped out on a few quality hangouts in trade for those outside-of-work project commitments — whether it was the right move every time is still yet to be determined. All of this is to say that the alone time seems to more often outnumber the not-alone time — in this case, for the sake of productivity and possibly financial advancement.
However, the combination of alone time and productivity isn’t a stranger to me. As the only designer at my workplace, I spend a lot of time alone and (generally) productive. That’s no discredit to my team in any way — we all have our specific set of tasks to keep the machine running and though they are intertwined, are often very different. When given an office to myself as an early-20-something I was stoked. I’d never thought that I would be accidentally secluding myself from workplace socialization, camaraderie, and (sometimes) collaboration. Again, somewhat a choice of my own, but a difficult situation to navigate, nonetheless.
This is also the first (almost) year that I’ve lived alone — so the regular roommate interaction I’ve had for the last 24 years (grouping family into the roommate category for comparison’s sake) has now disappeared — and add the kicker of entering my first long-distance relationship to the mix, as well. These two situations (and frankly, all of the above) were ones I thought I was prepared to handle but what I didn’t account for was how fast I was racking up these individual changes, and how the combination of it all would leave me feeling disconnected from the social world I was once immersed in. Not to mention the effect that social media has had and the indirect FOMO that comes with seeing a curated feed at all times, whether we like it or not.
I don’t blame any one of these individual changes, or any person, directly for how I’m feeling — much of it can be chocked up to decisions of my own that had unintended side-effects, or just “life” itself. I had, and am still combating, something I describe as “stress addiction” (which I’ll be writing about later) which contributed to my “work ethic” and overall physical and mental state. The mental side effects are only what I can describe as incessant self-reflection and endless scenario-based thought loops. I personally need social time with/around other people to recharge and center myself, even if that means just staring at the TV or eating food together. It helps me get perspective on things going on outside of my personal bubble and ultimately power down the over-thinking-engine.
It’s only recently that I came to the conclusion that I’m feeling lonely. What initially took form as self-diagnosed anxiety, imposter syndrome, overactive OCD, and potentially some slight depression were only residual effects of the elephant in the room — finally coming to that “aha! you’re just lonely” moment actually gave me a bit of relief. Self awareness, at this level especially, is a double sided coin. You could argue that at least I’m able to identify and articulate what’s bothering me so that it can become actionable. But on the flip side, it makes me empathetic toward myself and all of those around me, and being blind to the “reasons behind my feelings” (or those feelings themselves) sometimes sounds blissful. If I learned anything from Marc Manson‘s book “The Subtle Art of Not Giving A Fuck” (or apparently any of Will Smith’s new inspirational videos?) it’s that there is a very different relationship between fault and responsibility. It may be someone or something else’s fault for something that happened (or in this case, how I’m feeling), but it’s your (my) responsibility, and yours (mine) alone, on how you (I) handle it.
Writing this out doesn’t necessarily solve anything, and I’m not sure I’ve given you, reader, anything tangible to implement yourself — but it’s certainly as cathartic as it is difficult. And if any of this resonates with you then know that you’re not on your own. I’m actively working on this whole loneliness thing. It’ll take a while, I presume, to get back to “even keel” and/or adjust to this new normal, but if I don’t try, then what’s the point?
I guess what I’m trying to say is if you’re feeling lonely, or bored, or whatever, call a friend. Chances are they’re feeling the same way too. And you might as well feel things together.
