To be lonely can feel like a deep emotional ache, longing and yearning to be understood, to be seen, to share your inner and outer world with another conscious being. It is perhaps one of the hardest, most isolating human experiences. However, what is really at the core of loneliness? Does it have to be painful? One might argue that a core difference between being lonely and alone is largely needs-based. Being lonely implies that something in our inner or external world is leaving us feeling dysregulated, destabilised, and in need of soothing, maybe so far as to say parenting: a benevolent, warm presence who sees and understands all, shares in our distress or joy, and loves us unconditionally. A lonely person can unconsciously need and yearn for this idealised psychic figure that might fill the sad and anxious void. This is a perfectly natural and understandable human experience; we should all, in an ideal world, have connections in our life that leave us feeling fundamentally ‘together’ in what is technically a solitary existence.
However, the unfortunate by-product of extreme loneliness is that it can become so powerful it drives our unconscious mind and behaviours. Decisions can become oriented around seeking and maintaining connection, forming relationships or self-soothing practices even when potentially unsafe. Yet the natural order of becoming conscious and finding our true selves means to first be led by our unconscious mind and spend time discovering why and who we are. Often it is a bitter rite of passage to learn that what we seek does not usually come from the outside world. Our 20s can therefore be a lonely and confusing stage in which there has not been enough time or decisions to learn from.
What if we shift our understanding and approach to our own loneliness? We can start by becoming aware and mindful that we are deeply social, emotional creatures and naturally feel safest in the presence of others. However, we need to recognise that when the physiological alarm bells scream for connection, it is not necessarily in our best interest to act immediately. Perhaps there are no intimate relationships around us right now, or maybe they don’t feel safe. We can observe these feelings from a place of patience, curiosity, and empathy. What has triggered this wave of loneliness? Perhaps an experience has brought out a young, scared part of us that needs comfort, or maybe we need to release trapped thoughts with another who will understand. We can try to emotionally cradle ourselves in these vulnerable moments, days, or months and take actions to console that lonely part of ourselves as much as is possible on our own.
For many, persistent loneliness is a natural manifestation of attachment wounds, leaving the inner child scared and bereft. We might feel like we are still small, navigating an adult world with our emotional cup only half filled. We all have parts of us that remain in the past, but some may still be hoping for a literal or figurative parental figure to scoop us up and make everything okay.
The idea of ‘reparenting’ may sound initially unnecessary: Why would I need parenting as an adult when I have gotten myself this far. I have learnt that with time, becoming your own parent – recognising and addressing unmet emotional or physical needs, and then working to fulfil those needs for ourselves, fosters self-compassion, healing, and a sense of connectedness even when alone. On a practical level, this can manifest via our internal voice which conditions our thoughts. How we speak to ourselves is crucial and can make our minds either a soothing or terrifying place to be, particularly if we have experienced a critical caregiver. One of the best pieces of advice I have ever received was to speak to myself as if I were my own toddler. At first, this felt ridiculous, but perhaps more so because I couldn’t comprehend that an adult deserved to be treated with such kindness or patience as we would afford a child. However, kindness is not the same as indulgence, nor patience as permissiveness. I would encourage that next time you feel sad, lonely, or angry, you might respond with something as simple as: “It’s okay to feel sad. Why wouldn’t you? That was a really difficult thing that happened. Let’s be sad together until this passes.”
All of this is not to say that the sting of loneliness is not still an inevitable and distressing part of life, but when we stay intentionally alone, we begin to protect and nourish ourselves in ways we can’t and shouldn’t expect from others. What we can control is to be consciously in solitude, to observe loneliness with grace and mindfulness. We can spend time getting to know ourselves through either therapy or personal self-discovery and incrementally form a safe, compassionate, and ever-lasting relationship with ourselves. And with patience and perseverance, one day you may turn around and realise the lonely abyss that once felt so constant and dark now seems like a passing sunset, complex and colourful with emotions and stories.
