A privileged perspective on loneliness

A reflection over my lockdown experience with a new-found sense of humility for the definition of solitude. 

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I have recently found a new definition of loneliness. I always knew it encompassed a feeling of being on one’s own, yet during these months of lockdown I have begun to analyse the feeling of solitude in more depth.

I would like to make a sweeping statement and declare that the majority of people in my generation aren’t accustomed to being alone. However, there is definitely an element of ignorance in that thought. Perhaps it is just my (very privileged) lifestyle talking here, but - shockingly – I don’t think I can remember ever having felt lonely before. From the 18 years of living in my family home, to the recent handful of years I’ve spent away at university, I’ve always been comfortably encircled by close family and friends. Social media have made it dangerously easy to feel intimate with a complete stranger, and so even when we are on our own, we feel as though we are still confidently cushioned by our endless list of virtual friends.

I’ve discovered that the real tragedy occurs when these virtual friendships don’t seem to adequately quench our thirst for social interaction. Unsurprisingly, it seems that we have a visceral need for face-to-face interaction with others. Sadly, the notoriously unpredictable British weather combined with the lockdown restrictions of late, have succeeded in rendering socialising on a regular basis pretty much impossible.

I’ve found myself wallowing in self-pity, which is appalling considering that I live with my sister and parents, so I’m clearly very much not alone. Yet I often struggle to find something to do to pass the time whilst also managing to nestle myself into a purposeless and pessimistic corner of my mind. The main problem I’m facing at the moment is that I don’t quite understand why I’m feeling so lonely. I am lucky enough to see three other faces every day, unlike lots of people who live alone. So, what is it about regularly socialising that we find so instinctively appealing? Is it the excuse to gossip? Or the thrill that comes with dining out in a fancy restaurant? Who knows?

I am embarrassed to admit that these past few months have humbled me. Although I know that everyone is living in their separate reality, I can’t help but feel ashamed that I’m basking in my so-called loneliness, while many others have lost their jobs and are experiencing much worse than a burning need to gossip.

I’ve come to accept that maybe the universe has granted me these couple of months without my usual support system in order to open my eyes and guide my attention towards the larger, more pressing issues our world is facing at the moment. After all, thanks to this pandemic I’ve been forced to spend my incredibly precious time with my family; loving, laughing, and, most importantly, living the life we are very blessed to live.