Loneliness: An Old Friend and a New Enemy

I was a lonely kid.

Let me rephrase that. I was a lonely kid from about the ages of 8 to 12. My family and I had uprooted our lives to a small country in Eastern Europe where my mother’s side of the family was from and I had been pulled away from a very established friend group I had in Cleveland. Not only was that friend group established, but my friends from my early years were extremely extroverted, always inviting me to hang out, always full of energy.

When we made the move, I think it was a bit of a culture shock. To me and my fellow peers that I had to try and be friends with. Long story short, I just didn’t get along with anyone and I was essentially forced to be my only friend, my only confidant. I learned to entertain myself. Watching cartoons and Disney movies was more than a fun Saturday morning, it was a necessary escape. Reading books was an escape. Between classes in 5th grade, I would make sure to time my break just right that I would have just enough time to go to the school library to pick a new book to dive into. When my family took me to my aunt’s cottage in the country, I was even more alone — but I liked it. I would roam around the nearby trails, sometimes listening to my mom’s CD player (Fergie and Shakira knew my soul during this time), picking and eating raspberries straight from the stem and of course, reading. As a child, I would create stories in my head, different scenarios, different imaginary friends — usually animals — who would follow me around and be the only ones I could trust to understand.

My sister was also an introvert since birth, so we usually did our own thing. But we still found moments to play dress up or pretend together.

So I guess, in a sense, I wasn’t lonely at all. I had myself.

Some productivity definitely came out of me being a recluse at that age. I finished books in under a week. I drew a lot — mostly people and animals, constantly. In the country, since I didn’t have any friends to be with, I learned how to berry pick, mushroom hunt and pick the right kind of wood for a good bonfire. I even won an art contest in 5th grade that my art teacher entered me into after he saw my painting. It ended up winning first place and was hung in the mayor’s office. It was a abstract watercolor of a house on fire.

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I’ve written about loneliness in my blog before. Around the time I started to really admit to myself I’m an introvert, I wrote this piece about my journey is beginning to embrace it. But now, we’re living in an interesting time where we’re all being forced into a state of loneliness for our own safety. How do I write a guide to being lonely now? I really can’t, and that’s not what I’m trying to do.

I’ve realized over the years that being alone didn’t scare me. So when self-isolation became a requirement rather than a choice, I felt prepared for it, like the sad 9-year-old inside me had trained me for this. I could pick up reading again. Being at home would fuel me! Who needs social interaction!

We did forest bathing before it was trendy.

But. I’m not 9 years old anymore. I’m 24 going on 25, during the “golden age” of my life, and the last 4 years or so I haven’t been lonely at all. I’ve been busy with my career, my schooling, social commitments, etc. I’ve been planning different chapters of my life, how to make the most of them when to travel when to make moves and changes. Because now I actually have the power in my hands. And that’s one of the few envigorating things about growing up, right?

Every couple of months have been something new, a different hurdle to cross, a new career goal to accomplish. Now, it’s come to a halt, because this is a very different situation. Another big difference is that, when I was lonely as a kid, there was at least a light at the end of the tunnel, and I knew exactly the timeline for when my loneliness would end.

My family had moved to Lithuania, it was more or less out of my control, but it was not permanent. The plan was — 5 or 6 years, and then we would return back to Cleveland, Ohio. So every day, every week, every year, I would have that in mind. Everything I was doing to keep my loneliness and sadness at bay, it was a good coping mechanism, but it was temporary. Every time I would have a particularly bad day or I was crying about missing my friends back at home, my dad would just tell me to hold on. One year to go. 3 months to go. And I knew that. I longed for the day when this isolated time in my life would come to a halt, and then everything would go back to how it was before.

Now, it’s 2020 and we’re in the middle of a pandemic. Cities are shutting down. People are being quarantined. Leaving the house creates a real, unprecedented risk. And we don’t exactly know when it will end or how. Even when it does end, will things really go back to the way they were before? And that’s the heaviness I’ve been carrying. At first, being alone seemed fine. I enjoy working from home, for the most part. I liked not having to deal with driving downtown (I despise driving) and dealing with parking. I thought, well, I do now have an extra 30 minutes that I saved from commuting. I could do so much! Do a yoga routine! Get more reading done! Write more! But I realized that I was mentally in a different place, and my brain has been rewired many times based on the situation I’ve been in.

We all adapt. We have to. That’s what I’m trying to do now. I’ve been lonely and anxious before, but that doesn’t mean I know how to be lonely and anxious at this particular time in my life. None of us do, because none of us have experienced anything like this before. So once again, I’m in a bit of a culture shock. All over again.

And this is why I think it is crucial to be gentle with ourselves, radically. I didn’t do it enough when I was younger. I convinced myself the reason I was lonely was my own, and that I had to just wait it out, and when I’m back to when everything is back to normal and I have people to keep me distracted from my feelings. And that’s exactly what I did for years after we returned to the U.S.

OOF!

Playing educational computer games like the social-distancing queen I was.

Also, let’s not worry too much about being as productive as we can be during this uncertain time. Let’s make sure we’re just doing what we can to survive, whether it be financially, physically or mentally. Do nothing if you have to. Hey, I mean when I was lonely and isolated at age 12, I won an art contest because I had nothing better to do. But I wasn’t doing it to get recognized, I remember painting that picture because it soothed me, it made me feel sane and less alone, and that meant more than the award.

For artists and creatives, creating has become highly synchronized with side-hustle culture, hence all the think pieces telling us how we “should be using this time to our advantage.” But that’s nonsense and we know it. This isn’t a vacation. If this time doesn’t feel like a break, it’s because it isn’t. The weeks have been feeling heavier and longer. Free time doesn’t feel really “free” because we’re all feeling incredibly trapped in so many ways.

And sure, it’s nice to think and hear about the artists and revolutionaries in our past who have used quarantines during their time to create some of their best work. I can’t help but be inspired, honestly. But I’m sure there were many who felt lost, depressed and far too numb to even pick up a quill. And to me, the best art doesn’t necessarily have to come from trauma, but it comes from the moments where you begin to let yourself heal from it. So yes, make art. Make it when you’re ready. I feel words and creative visions coming to me again, but I had to wait about a week of just letting myself do nothing in the evenings and weekends. I had to let myself sleep in. A lot. All weekend. And I didn’t feel bad, because I am recharged.

Because everything is exhausting right now. The news. The sense of restlessness. The uncertainty of what comes next. The prescribed loneliness. But art can be a friend too. It can be a remedy to loneliness, but only when it comes naturally. Only when it’s there to heal you.

As I mentioned, I can’t really write a guide to loneliness or how to make the most of it, and I don’t want to. To some, it may ve productivity, to some it may be doing nothing. And I’m learning how to cope and find balance — between being so busy that I ignore my mental health, to being so isolated that I’m feeding into depression. So, do something. Or nothing. Or do a little bit of both. Paint a painting or watch TV. Write a novel or stare out the window for an hour."

And please, find ways to stay in touch with friends. When I was a kid, I let the loneliness consumed me because I figured “when this is all over” I would see my best friends again and it would be fine. But I should’ve been more open to new connections and holding on to old ones while I’m at a distance. We’ve all basically entered into long-distance relationships with everyone we know. Find whatever makes you feel like you’re less alone. All of this is equally productive and necessary to get us through this strange time in our lives.

The world has hit pause for the time being, so if anything, use this silence to listen to what you’ve been distracting yourself from.