I’ve been doing some looking into loneliness research, because apparently we have an epidemic on the heels of our pandemic. It’s an emotional epidemic, that has gone viral, metaphorically speaking.
Of course there is some correlation between the two. During the pandemic there were studies revealing that a rise in loneliness was attributable not just to disconnection from our close friends and immediate family, but a loss of relationships with ‘consequential strangers’ or insignificant others if you will; those we share space with at restaurants and parks and art galleries and concerts. Turns out that social gathering is extremely important for fostering connection among humans beyond our more intimate relationships and the loss of it contributes to feelings of loneliness and isolation. So if you thought you were crazy for caring about restaurants so much, you’re not (hang on a sec I need to make a quick call; yes that’s a table for 2 at 8, thank you).
I don’t think there is a whole lot of merit in diving into the impact of loneliness for the sake of this musing. It can lead to depression and other serious mental health challenges. But even before it gets bad enough to be medically serious, it’s shitty. I’m not running clinical studies, but I read a recent Harvard report on all of the unexpectedly wonderful spill-over effects of long term relationship on health and quality of life. Human connection, collaboration, support, sharing equals good. Lack thereof equals not so good. And while romantic relationship per se is not for everyone, many of us want it, and even the loners of the world need those they can be “alone from”, which is different than feeling alone-ness is foisted upon you, or a painful struggle.
Add to this the post pandemic trend toward dropping out of social engagement; social apathy. Our muscles atrophied. We were sad but the sadness did not motivate us to engage, rather it weighed upon us, made it feel harder and heavier to get out the door, to navigate the grocery store or the mall or the celebration. I mean PANTS were hard, after the coziness of yoga apparel and pajamas, after the memes about pandemic-chic, the devil may care couture, the anti-chic.
If I still struggle with constrictive clothing now that it’s 2024 (almost), of course there are implications for our social selves. I know of neighborhoods where hours never returned to pre-pandemic status. Entire businesses that invented a new normal, and that is that. There is less work place connection, and while I’m certainly not saying work from home isn’t way easier on many facets of the economy and the human experience, I am noting it’s impact on our opportunities for connection.
I’m sure that some of this was a much needed reset. Lowered expectations allowed for restrictions in commerce that would not have previously been tolerated. But for those who are alone, reduced open hours means more time to go be alone.
Dating apps weren’t getting a lot of glow before the global shutdown, but in an environment where people were yearning to feel included, needed, related to, bonded, warmth, a genuine sentiment that would carry them through the fear and distress, the absence of opportunities for meaningful engagement where we expected to find them, GLARED.
Why is that? I have conversations every day with you where I get to learn why. You feel up-shopped. You feel traded. You feel transactional. Commodified. What you get from a photograph and an “about me” aren’t conversation, whimsical laughter, or meaning. You’re ohhh sooo tired of falling short of an idealized solution to someone’s life. You are bored with cold and clinical. The sizing up and down. No one is real. No one flirts. No one is playful, if you get to the date in the first place. There is a sea of illusory options, but you can’t connect with any of them. There is no hack for the feeling you are looking for. There is no methodology for turning the smiling face and string of words into passion. And the IRL has been broken by reliance on online.
When you add atrophy to fatigue you get drop out. You get resignation. Feelings of helplessness. A society wide sigh, I am meant to be alone.
And what about our newly AI driven culture? Okay AI is super cool. I am not indicting anyone or anything. I’m simply following the way it’s trending in terms of our ability to connect, and what I am hearing is that in many ways we have roboticized our way out of the human element, touch, creative spark, artistic genius, variability, scent. Collectively we feel like the kid who couldn’t find a partner in gym class. The message is cruel.
And don’t get me started on social media because I am not against it, but isn’t the critique that it creates an outsider culture? You can share, but you can’t belong.
Lonely.
And not sexy.
There is no sultry make out session on the outside of connection.
Division in politics. Diversity division.
It’s true that we need our consequential strangers.
But to stay consequential we need to believe in each other and in our collective engagement. That there is a possibility of conversation, of friendship, of camaraderie, of flirtation. To feel like putting on that dress we need to believe in seeing and being seen.
Or we –they simply become the blurred Zoom background.
The image of a city.
If you ask me, the rise in loneliness mirrors Emile Durkheim’s theory of “anomie”.
Durkheim was famous for his studies on increased suicide rates in factory workers during the advance of specialized labor post industrialization. He posited that disconnection of the means to the ends of work, disassociation from the sense of meaning in having created a tangible product, caused lack of engagement, apathy, hopelessness, and despair.
Maybe we can describe our current epidemic as HUMAN anomie; disassociation from one another, individually and as a group. Our efforts toward one another are lost in space. The most popular line I read in online dating chat which I have studied extensively these past few years and managed for many clients, is “Nice to connect”. And yet there is seldom any connection. Because the algorithm isn’t leaking pheromones, or exuding essence of human, lol. We have infinite access and very little opportunity.
We no longer believe in or feel much about the person behind the profile.
The string of words.
The credentials.
The smiling photos.
The possibility that they will feel twitterpated by us or make us feel twitterpated.
When my kids were small, I schooled them on the nature of school. I didn’t want them to fear authority. They are paid to teach you so that you have choices in your life. This is their JOB, I urged them to understand. It helped. It truly helped. Fear dialed down. Well being increased in our home. But I also, most importantly shared with them this hack; if you’re going to be there everyday, and you’re gonna be because society and law and shit, you need to actually TRY to learn. You need to be involved and inputting effort, so that you can feel good about yourself, regardless of what is or isn’t going on with your teacher or whether the system that was set up to help you is the best one for you, or effective in general.
We need to invest as humans to feel good.
When we stop caring, trying, and investing we atrophy.
And I would argue that we need to invest in humans to feel good.
We need a ‘room full of strangers’ we reasonably believe could talk to us, ignite our interest, or feel ignited by us, whether or not that includes a crush or a future date or a soul mate or someone to compliment our outfit or accomplishment.
The biggest lie in today’s profile, media and dating alike, is not your weight or age, or height or your income, or a perfect story worthy life, it’s your level of engagement.
It’s your promise to dig in, deep even. To converse. To respond. To meaningfully allow for chemistry when you have nothing initially to go on.
To hold space for the warmth, humor, adorability, the sultriness, sensuality, pheromones, the je ne sais quois.
It’s your, our, a belief in human warmth and worthiness.
The infinite essence that animates the shopping list or the campaign.
We need to hang on to what we have left.
We need to find ways back to what we have lost, or given up on.
That is our antidote to anomie.
We are made to care. We can’t be cut off from our ability to care and expect to thrive.
One word, one question, one face at a time.
The jolt of joy we get from treating someone well, irrespective of whether they are lighting our fire.
We need to let someone shine, rather than focusing on the parts that AI and Insta can do better.
Everyone has something insanely glorious to share, something bigger, something borne of being human not in the fallible sense, but being part of humanity that is the whole machine.
We need to remember that we like them for what they unapologetically bring to the table.
We need to be less afraid to lead with what we have to offer.
Ask a personal question.
Listen to the answer.
Engage with their story.
Share something vulnerable about ourselves.
There is a philosophy, let’s generously call it that, more like an idea that is perpetuated in business advice content that you are the reflection of the 5 people you hang with most, give or take a person. Well the fears were a flying the first time I saw that typed across some influencer’s daily contribution to my future investment portfolio. A horrible feeling ensued of painful conflict wherein I measured all of the shortcomings of my most beloved crew against the needs of my future financial self. It was not pretty. I needed, according to my latest guru, to quickly break up with everyone and start pal’in around with Elon and the gang so I could shoot for a moon and retire on a lesser known star before turning 80. Worse was the notion that I should run my nearest and dearest through some math equation (ewwww), discern my bad life choices and whatever that says about my unwillingness to realize my potential (more ewwww).
But when the fear dissipated I realized this: that my crew is freaking smart. Funny in a way that disarms me daily. Profoundly giving. Genius. Creative. Caring. And we would kill for one another, without actually killing. Even on our worst days, we know that we’re unstoppable together, and that our strengths are a net and that our foibles are nothing more than material for the act.
Emotions run high during the holiday season.
Holiday loneliness is the sense that joy is sparkling and twinkling in the atmosphere, but you cannot touch it. You are left on the outside.
By a problem you can’t solve alone but you feel you must.
By the need to give against a needfulness too great to fathom.
But I’m here today to say don’t underestimate yourself, please.
You can give your curiosity.
You can give your faith.
In that big powerful irreplaceable something in yourself and the person across from you.
The reason your circle can’t survive without you.
The reason we all can’t.
You have the power to lift someone up.
Sprinkle that shit everywhere you can this season.
Remind them who they are.
Remember who you are.
We aren’t faces in a sea of faces.
We are an ocean. Yeah.
Dating anomie, online fatigue; an epidemic of loneliness among the single and coupled alike.
It’s time to find our way back to one another.
Breathe some life into our avatars.
Open our eyes, wide.
Love,
Erin