Loneliness and environment
Hello fellow LonelyTheBook friends. I’ve been reading a lot these days about environmental psychology–the impact of place on our thoughts and feelings. The subject appeals to me because the move from St. John’s to Toronto has signalled major “environmental” changes. There’s no ocean here, of course, but Toronto is also hotter, brighter, louder, and much more quickly paced.
There’s a lot in the enviro psych literature about depression and mania, but not a word about loneliness. This strikes me as an oversight. I know that when I was living near the ocean in St. John’s, I simply felt less lonely. This was the case even though I was objectively alone most days. But on those days I could walk through big parks, or go hiking on sea-side cliffs, or just sit on the deck and smell the fresh ocean air.
I wonder if part of loneliness can be seen as a failure to connect not just to other people but to the world around us. I know that what I “miss” in Toronto is not just the close companionship that Danielle used to provide but the sense of being woven into a much larger, greener (and bluer) fabric. There are simply fewer natural prompts here to make me feel good and whole, fewer sights to make me marvel, fewer miles for me to walk.
The irony, of course, is that the ocean-side hikes I loved so much in Newfoundland were entirely de-populated. I could walk for an hour and see no one. Whereas here, where my loneliness is much more profound, I am rarely objectively “alone.” There are crowds on the street, on subways and buses. But I’ve lost a sense of natural presence that made the world feel closer and more comforting. Without the natural world, I’m doubly lonely, and that’s a shame: it’s just one more thing to miss.
The long silence
Greetings people, or at least those of you still remaining after my long silence. I have found it absolutely impossible to write lately. I had done a lot of thinking (and some writing) earlier on the subject of loneliness and creativity, but I’ve never experienced anything like this. I stare at a page and the words don’t come. I think about blogging and my mind goes blank. I try to do research for Book The Second and my brain just fizzles.
Never before have I had such trouble getting thoughts done on paper (or on the screen). I think this has a lot to do with post-separation isolation. Writer’s block was one of the things that scared me when Danielle announced that she was leaving me. On top of everything else I was facing — the separation agreement, the chaos around the house, the goodbyes to all the pets — at the back of my mind I thought, “I’m not going to be able to write.”
That was three months ago, and I’ve barely written a word since. I can journal, which is a relief and a blessing, but I can’t think about publishing anything. Publishing feels so exposed, so risky, so…public.
If I had any doubts about the relationship between loneliness and creativity, they are over. It is hard (impossible?) to be creative when intensely lonely. I can read, and I can journal, but I just can’t write. I know what the problem is: I need a sense of emotional security in order to feel creative, and I just don’t have that right now. I feel vulnerable and insecure, and those feelings choke out anything that might be interesting, fruitful or new.
I am, however, going to make a renewed pledge to blog. A blog is a nice mid-point between a diary and a published piece of writing. I figure if I can blog at least once a week, that is a sign of some progress, and I think I have to be measuring progress in very small steps right now.
So please stay tuned…more blog posts to follow as I try to work my way through through isolation and towards (hopefully) the ability to write once more.
Lonely planet
Was out in rural Ontario this weekend, and my thoughts turned again to that bugbear — the single person vacation. In Lonely, I wrote about a singletons bike trip that I went on. It was beyond excruciating. My social skills seized up, and I couldn’t wait to get home. I actually kissed the ground of my little apartment once I’d returned and was safely back in what I thought of as my real life.
That was about six years ago. I haven’t travelled alone since then, largely because — for most of those six years — I was part of a couple. But, as all readers of this blog will know, I’m now back to being on my own. Since it’s summer, and since I’m longing to get out of the city, my thoughts are turning once more to the solo vacation. I’ve even gone so far as to visit the website of a northern Ontario outfitting company that welcomes single travellers.
But I don’t know if I’m going to do it. I don’t know if I can do it. In my daydreams, I head out to the woods and find friendship and comfort. In reality, it might just be a cash drain that leaves me with bugbites and a wicked case of intensified loneliness.
A few readers have commented on religious and/or yoga retreats, and I think that might be the best way to go: lots of structured time, and few expectations about easy sociability. If you’ve had good experiences with this sort of thing, post a note and let others know. There’s a religious retreat in Kentucky that I’ve been meaning to go to for years, but it involves silence and isolation — and I’m not sure if this will leave me feeling more lonely or less so. Somehow, in that paradoxical way, the notion of *not* talking to people seems less loneliness-provoking than actually conversing with them.
Have started yoga
Hello all,
A quick note to let you know that I’m now with the 21st century — I’ve started yoga. I feel a bit clumsy in the class: I’m not sure of many of the moves, and all the other women in the class seem to have been doing it for years. But the teacher is very kind, and the pace is relatively manageable, so I’m going to stick with it.
What I like about yoga is what many readers of this blog have identified: it provides you with the chance to just be with others in a meaningful and quiet way. I was a bit worried about pre-yoga chitchat, but I walked into the classroom to find all the other participants resting on their backs, eyes closed, and quiet. It was a relief, after many days of being alone, to take my place on the floor, and simply *be* with others without having to interact or extend myself too much. (Not that I’m against extending myself, but I deeply don’t have the energy for it right now.)
I’m thinking more about this quiet togetherness, which I like, and wonder where else I might find it. There are meditation classes (which I love), and of course there’s church, though that can get a bit tricky, doctrine-wise. There’s the pool, and the library (thank heavens for libraries), and I suppose there are coffee shops, though I rarely feel connected with others there. And of course there’s this blog, which I adore. If you have any other suggestions for quiet, low impact togetherness, send them in.
Cat not doing well
Received a note from a reader a week or so ago saying that I should write more about what is happening to me. My first response upon opening the message was surprise — why would anyone tell me what to write? But upon reviewing the note, I realized the reader had a point. One of my main points in Lonely was the need for emotional honesty, and I should practise what I preach. And this is a very safe forum for me to discuss things in.
But the separation is still too new and raw for me to discuss. So, instead of talking about myself, I’ll talk about the cat, who is my closest companion in my new apartment. The cat is taking things hard. He seems disoriented every morning — walking around the kitchen and crying as I try to tempt him with food. He seems lonely, as though he misses the other cats who stayed behind in Newfoundland. And he seems a bit angry at yet another move this late in his long life.
Am I projecting? Partly. For sure I’m partly projecting. Disorientation, loneliness, anger — these are all problems in my life right now. But I can’t seem to face them. I can worry about them in the context of Hodge’s life, but can’t fully acknowledge them within the context of my own. There’s a sort of emotional blankness that’s settled down around me. The pain is there, but often invisible. I’ll feel it as fatigue — which will hit in the middle of the afternoon — or as lassitude, a complete inability to focus or apply myself to anything.
So, I did just wind up talking about myself, at least a bit. Thanks to everyone who has sent warm wishes my way — the kind thoughts are much appreciated. This blog post is a bit rambling. An indication, methinks, of my state of mind. Things will return to normal Lonely The Book standards again soon. Promise.
Quick note on loneliness and heat
A number of readers have sent me this article on reaching out for “warmth” when feeling lonely. I found myself thinking of it just now, when I couldn’t bring myself to get out of a very hot shower. The research follows other findings on loneliness making you feel “cold.”
I like the notion of subconsciously reacting to loneliness through a hot bath or shower. This doesn’t mean that the overwhelming heat of a Toronto summer will necessary make you feel less lonely — I think the key finding in the study is that the warmth has to be comforting, and it’s hard to feel comfortable in the midst of 35 degree summer days.
Still, I wanted to blog about this finding. I like it when psychological research aligns with what many of us are already doing. Hot tea, hot baths, exercising to generate a sense of warmth — all of these things, in their own small way, can make us feel a bit less alone.
Cat friendly apartment found
Thanks to everyone for sending encouragement as Hodge and I sought digs in Toronto. I have found a cat-friendly apartment, and the move is on for around July 3rd. Please note that there will be a break in my email and blog capabilities for a few days around this time.
Did a radio interview with a UK station last week, and it was odd. I didn’t know what tense to use when talking about loneliness. I was lonely? Am lonely? Will be lonely? Loneliness used to be a past tense event for me–Lonely was about my early to mid-thirties–but it seems to be recurring in my life again now.
Sometimes interviewers say really smart and interesting things, and I’ve blogged about this before, but I keep coming back to it in my mind. About a year ago, a journalist told me that what he found most useful in battling his demons was “daily maintenance”–that the threat of loneliness (in my case) needs to be something I confront and try to subdue every day.
Send tips on what might constitute a daily maintenance strategy for loneliness. Does meditation help? Yoga? Dog-walking? Connecting with a friend over coffee? I feel that it’s very important right now that I not just let myself drift back into loneliness. Thoughts and guidelines and tips for “daily maintenance” would be most welcome.
No pets? I think not!
Hello all,
Again, thanks to all for the messages and the support — it really does make a difference. I am now landed in Toronto and am apartment hunting. Almost found a place this week — it had a nice office where I could have set up Lonely HQ — but then the landlord turned to me and said, “No pets.”
Well, that was a surprise! It’s actually illegal in Ontario to ban pets from a building. There was a famous case a few years back (the “Fluffy” decision), where the Court of Appeal found that pets were critical to many people’s mental health, and that there was no reason to prohibit them except in cases of disruption or risk.
But so many landlords are banning pets. What’s a person with a *strong* predisposition to loneliness to do? Many people have asked about my pet status. Post breakup, Danielle kept the three younger cats, and I flew to Toronto with my 16 year old cat, Hodge Podge. The landlord I was speaking to this week suggested that all I needed to do was put Hodge down — then my rental problems would be solved!
I realize I’m editorializing here, but the no pet thing is seriously stressing me out. So many of you have sent me such lovely notes about how your pets have helped with loneliness — how they’re there at the end of the day, how there’s another “heartbeat” in the house, how cats cuddle and make the bed feel cozier. And I don’t want to lose that. As a singleton with no kids, I need other creatures in the house.
So my apartment hunt just got a lot more complicated, but I know myself and my risk of loneliness too well to back down on the need for pets. Hodge & I will find a place, I’m sure. I just wish people were a little more aware of the important roles animals serve in a life — I’m not seeing a lot of that right now.