Archive for the ‘Effects of Loneliness’ Category
A lesson in human connection
My town is not famous for much, but it is famous for having a HUGE staircase running from pretty much sea level to the top of something that could fairly be described as a mountain. It’s really seven or eight linked staircases, with rocky gaps between each set of stairs.
I was out yesterday, hiking all over the cliffs. It was hot, and I was getting increasingly tired, but I was at the bottom of what could only be described as a “U”: no matter which direction I went in, I’d have to climb up out of the valley. So I chose the stairs.
This was a mistake. About half-way up, I was weak; sweat and sunscreen were spilling into my eyes. I thought, I am not going to make it. I had visions of being rescued by helicopter, or water dogs, or a team of police. These thoughts were mortifying, but I could…not…keep…climbing.
So I collapsed into a bunch of bushes beside the steps and sat there gasping for breath. What was I going to do? And then this very nice woman (who was also out of breath) stopped on the stairs to chat with me. I was down on the ground, looking like the dog’s breakfast, but she didn’t comment on this. She just began to talk about the hot day, and the cruelty of the steps, and how out of shape she was, and so on.
And as she talked I began to feel my heart rate slow down. I’ve read so much on human interaction and physiology, and I began to think, “I’m in a social psychology experiment!” The longer the woman talked, the better I felt. My breathing returned to normal, the sweat seemed to ebb, and it seemed as though my legs might actually begin to function again.
The woman moved on, and I let her go, but I found that the effect of our conversation was to give me the energy and reassurance I needed to continue climbing. The talk left me feeling less freaked out and exhausted–and this was just a casual chat with a stranger. But I think it was exactly what I needed right then–not just rest, but communication.
The episode made me think again of how awful and sick and anxious I was during the years I write about in Lonely, and about how social isolation might still be affecting me today. If that little episode on the steps taught me anything, it’s that the social interaction studies are right on target: we need people around us, and their presence or absence can affect us in profound ways.
Study on social relationships and health
Well, the papers have been buzzing with news that relationships are good for your health, and that isolation is a risk factor equivalent to smoking.
I have to admit that I’m a bit mystified about all the fuss. The link between isolation and longevity has been understood since at least the late 1970s. Similarly, the risk factors attaching to loneliness (as well as the increased risk of mortality for the lonely) have been known for over a decade.
So why is this story getting blogged and buzzed and Twittered about? The risk factors haven’t changed. I think what has changed is our vulnerability to isolation. When the first studies of isolation and mortality came out in the late 70s, we weren’t so alone. It’s only today, with isolation on the rise, that a study such as this one is able to create such a bang.
If someone sees something I’m missing, please feel free to write and inform me. But there are whole textbooks written on this subject that’s being presented as “news.” Again, I think it’s our increased isolation that’s driving interest in this story, not the findings themselves.
The ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, and loneliness
Headed out to the ocean this weekend to deal with my social loneliness. The Atlantic is about a ten minute drive away: I like to go to a big park with a 150 year old lighthouse and views clear to Ireland. The sun was bright, the waves were huge, and the day was fresh.
At first, I didn’t feel a sense of connection, but as I walked, and felt my step bounce against the heather, and thought of the whales that would soon be in the waters all around me, I began to feel more connected.
In Lonely, I talk about “biophilia,” which is the notion that human life is intricately related to the life all around us — the idea is that we don’t exist in silos, but are rather deeply connected to the world we live in. If biophilia is true (and I think it is), then we can’t hurt the world around us without being hurt ourselves. As species die out, or become dangerously rare, we’ll begin to feel the gaps in our own lives.
And staring out at the Atlantic this weekend, and loving the sense of being part of something, I had to think about the BP oil spill in the Gulf. It’s essentially the same body of water — though I’m a lot further north. I couldn’t help but think that the damage that’s being done to the Gulf — otters! sea turtles! nesting birds! — really affects us all. When I tried to express this idea to a newspaper editor, he said I had no proof, but I could feel the proof in my own body: there was an empty feeling inside me when I thought about all the species affected by the spill.
So the trip to the shore was a mixed blessing. The ocean was beautiful, but it inevitably got me thinking about the spill, and its effects. Ultimately, I’d like us to arrive at a point where it’s normal to talk about loneliness in terms of our relationship with the natural world. This shouldn’t be seen as some off-beat, wacky idea. It’s not. Deep down, I think we are connected to the world around us, and damage to that world will hurt us in ways we might not expect.
Thinking about the health effects of loneliness
Some readers of this blog have written in to ask how they can respond to some of the health problems loneliness seems to trigger. I’ve been mulling this, and trying to think of a response that’s both reasonable and workable.
I don’t want people to think that loneliness is utterly dire, that it will immediately land you in hospital, and leave you instantly sick. This isn’t true. I talk about having my health and sleep go all wonky when I was extremely lonely, but–when I think back on those years–I realize I wasn’t taking very good care of myself.
I think that part of the response (when thinking about the health effects of loneliness) is to recognize that loneliness is capable of cuing changes. This is Step One. Step Two involves treating yourself kindly: eating as well as possible, getting as much sleep as possible, treating yourself to massages (touch!), and exercising every day (if this is possible for you).
In other words, I think loneliness has to make you more health conscious. If you’re lonely, you need to take care of yourself. “Self-care” is a phrase that bugs me–I want others to care for me!–but I think it’s an important part of responding to loneliness.
Another response involves writing. Keep a journal. Write down what’s happening to you. If you’re not into diary keeping, write songs, or sketch something, or listen to your favorite music. I think that loneliness can be profoundly non-creative: it shuts down communication. Communicating in your own way, privately, through a journal, or a piano, or a painting, can go some way towards off-setting the feelings of aloneness that can lead to health risks.
Send me your thoughts on this. I don’t want lonely people to think, “Well, there are health risks, so I might as well throw in the towel.” This isn’t true! Taking charge of your health, and finding some way of externalizing feelings of loneliness can, I think, be a route to better health.
I’m going to be blogging about this more in the future, as I continue to think.
A comment on effects of loneliness
The problem with writing a blog after writing the book is that I’m not repeating material that’s in the book. This leaves my “effects of loneliness” a bit lop-sided, since I’m only blogging about things (e.g., induction, cold) that came to light after the book went to press.
That being said, I think it’s important to point out that loneliness (especially long-term loneliness), has many profound effects. It alters our sleep, dampens our immune systems, alters blood pressure, and has been linked to a higher risk of dementia. The state, in other words, packs a solid punch. It’s for this reason that we need to understand loneliness more fully, and offer more help to people struggling with the state.
Loneliness as “contagious”?
I want to comment on the recent study by John Cacioppo and colleagues about loneliness being “contagious.” This study, which can be viewed at http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34209727/ns/health-behavior/ makes the case that loneliness can spread: if you’re lonely, you’re more likely to withdraw, and thereby increase feelings of loneliness in those around you.
This study—for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me—has gotten a lot of press. This is not necessarily a bad thing, since it means that loneliness is making the news, and talk of loneliness in big public forums like MSNBC is welcome.
But you need to understand that there are countless studies of loneliness out there that haven’t been covered this way. There’s something about this study in particular that’s fascinating people, and I think it has to do with the word “contagious.”
John Cacioppo has stressed that he’s using the word “contagious” to mean that the state can spread; he doesn’t mean it’s linked to germs, or infection, or disease. But I think the word is a dangerous one. We already see lonely people as having something wrong with them, as being less attractive, less intelligent, and needier than the nonlonely.
And I think this is why the “contagious” study is spreading (pardon the pun) through the news: because it ties in with stereotypes, and buttresses stigma. It lets us think of the lonely as sick, as dangerous—and these are old and tired ways of thinking.
Loneliness as “contagious” — still concerned
My last Google News search for loneliness and “contagion” turned up more than 350 posts. I find this bizarre. Why is this story—which is, fundamentally, just an academic study—getting so much press?
I repeat what I said earlier: there are countless loneliness studies out there, some of which (such as those linking loneliness to early death) contain much more striking findings.
The term the paper actually uses most heavily is “induction,” not “contagion.” Maybe we can all start saying “induction” instead.
Note that I’m not saying the paper itself is wrong. It’s actually fascinating. I’m just baffled by how it’s getting reported in the media.
Loneliness as “induced” in social networks — just a starting point
See how I’m using the new terminology? It’s fun! The “induction” study shows that loneliness can spread through social networks, with your odds of becoming lonely increasing with exposure to lonely friends.
The idea is that lonely people on the edge of networks isolate themselves further, leaving people they used to be close to feeling alone and lonely themselves. These “second generation” lonely people can then begin to respond in a withdrawn and distrustful way, thereby spreading the loneliness out to yet another circle of people.
I think the reasoning behind this paper is probably right. I think that loneliness is social, and I know from my own experience that I’ve cut people off when lonely—possibly contributing to loneliness in those people.
But I also know that I’ve had friends who’ve stood by me through years of loneliness, and this finding doesn’t fit with the paper’s conclusion. I’ve had friends who’ve reached out to me instead of retreating, friends who haven’t been bothered by my loneliness one way or another. Heck, I’ve got one friend who’s used my loneliness as a way of getting back in touch (he found out I’d written LONELY), and this has strengthened my social network.
I think the reality of loneliness and social networks is much, much more complex than the paper suggests. I see this paper as a really good starting point. But that’s all it is. We need to know a lot more about how loneliness operates within social networks. My own experience with loneliness has shown me that not everyone will retreat. Different people will bring their own resources and backgrounds to the recognition of my loneliness, and my loneliness won’t affect certain people at all (in fact, in the case of the friend I just mentioned, it might bring them closer).
One thing that hasn’t been noted about this paper is that the average age of the study participants was 64 years old. I’m forty. My worst stretch of loneliness occurred in my thirties. It’s quite possible that people at different life stages respond differently to loneliness in their peers, with older people perhaps being more “vulnerable” to the state.
Loneliness induced in social networks — is this bad news for the lonely?
A major concern I have with this study is that it’s going to reinforce the stigma against the lonely by casting them as “carriers” of some sort of “contagious” disease. If we’re averse to loneliness (and of course, we are), then there is bound to be some backlash against people “carrying” the state. Oh, my goodness. I can’t even believe I’m using these terms.
Lonely people aren’t “carrying” anything, and I wish the media would stop being so predictably melodramatic and stereotype-inducing in reporting the (very preliminary) results.
I can just see the coverage of this paper leading lonely people to try to hide their state, for fear of being seen as “carriers.”
Lonely people being “cut off” from social networks
One finding from the “induction” (OK, the “contagion”) study was that lonely and socially isolated people might find themselves ostracized, as the social network tries to protect itself from the spread of loneliness.
Now, this is not good news for someone who’s about to publish a first-person memoir of loneliness. Will I be ostracized? Will I be seen as a threat to the social fabric? Little me?