All by Myself…

Replacing loneliness with solitude.

This week in the UK is #National Loneliness Week https://www.lonelinessawarenessweek.org/understandingloneliness and I thought it appropriate to mark this by this adaptation of a chapter in my book Love, Labour and Loss.

As the book is predominantly about overcoming and reframing a range of issues which can affect our mental health and wellbeing, I thought it only right to give loneliness- enforced and solitude- sought, some time on the page.

I know the title of the song, epitomised in Bridget Jones’ Diary film, paints the picture of a lonely woman played by Renee Zwellger, sat drinking herself into oblivion, participating in solo-karaoke. Rejected by yet another man, unable to process a life on her own.

Clearly it is not that simple!

For me, I long to have my own space, but on my terms.

Having no siblings, I was quite content with adult company growing up and always appeared quite mature as a result of this. I craved time spent with Mum and Dad separately as a young adult. One friend once assumed they were divorced, because Iplanned outings with one parent at a time. For me, this was because they brought out different sides to me.

As a consequence, growing up with adults, I knew I had to work to build strong friendships and this I certainly did. This resulted in friends over the decades who could not have been closer to me than any sibling, and for that I am grateful, be they Spring, Summer, Autumn or Winter friends! (You will understand this metaphor when you read the book!)

Some of my fondest memories growing up still featured me replicating that solo-karaoke, Bridge Jones style. Either listening to Spandau Ballet on my treasured record player (as an impressionable 8 year old, who believed she would marry Martin Kemp!) or devising highly choreographed dances to Careless Whisper, which I then forced my family to watch (asan excitable 10 year old, who also believed she would marry George Michael!). Sadly, neither turned out to be the case!

Equally, as a far older, marginally wiser woman, I sit here now alone, writing, a luxury I have never allowed myself to indulge in since being that young girl.

Now …these moments of solitude are viewed as nothing but positive.

This was not always the case. Events that occurred between that joyous girl twirling around at home, to the mature ‘life- worn’ woman sat here now, meant that for years, I viewed being alone as a negative and if I had time to myself, I wasted it and it failed to live up to expectations.

There are times when being alone is ‘forced’ upon you. This can lead to the most crippling loneliness, which seeps into your psyche, erodes your self esteem and eats away at your wellbeing.

When has loneliness been enforced upon you?

My experience of this for the first time was an unwanted initiation into University life, a small fish in a huge pond, sat in my even smaller single room, surrounded by strangers. The concept of ‘homesickness’ is addressed in another chapter of the book , but it took a good 8 months to even vaguely settle and I can feel the physical, visceral pain to this day that I felt after visits home and driving back to return to enforced solitude.

In time, I did build a circle of friends but it didn’t come easily and dreams I had of living the single, partying life never quite lived up to expectations and in reality, a chunk of my university years were spent alone, further wallowing in my uncertainty about who I was and where I fitted.

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Secondly, after longing for our precious child, having had a ‘glowing’ pregnancy, a maternity leave filled with emotions I could never have anticipated, led to me craving the safe company of my husband and parents and tried to avoid being alone as much as was possible when ‘baby’ came along.

I dreaded the days where there would be no adult interactions, with a wonderful bundle who I just wished could talk.

I don’t think enough is said about post partum loneliness and isolation. It is assumed that mums will simply ‘slot in’ effortlessly to the endless round of mother and baby groups, baby yoga, music with mummy sessions etc etc.

I did not ‘slot in’. Not by any means. I felt like a proverbial fish out of water and sat in many a church hall or soft play centre feeling loneliness like no other.

Expectations placed on mums to be ‘grateful’ and to ‘use’ their maternity leave to the fullest by an endless round of socialising with your little one, can be overwhelming… particularly knowing what I know now about my neurodiversity being a challenge to this social expectation.

Stating that early motherhood left me feeling like this, does not equal me regretting my choices. I have the most amazing relationship with my wonderful 22 year old but we have both worked on this and it cannot be taken as something that magically happens. Neither is it right for mums to assume they won’t feel negative feelings within their position as a mum. It is reality. But the loneliness within motherhood certainly did pass.

One of my proudest achievements is that I now have a daughter who is not afraid to be alone and does not feel compelled to be surrounded by people validating her every minute of the day. What a blessing that is!

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Thirdly, within the blink of an eye, (the results of an MRI scan), a stroke in my relative youth, meant a diary that was crammed with both work commitments, delicately balanced with social engagements, was instantaneously wiped blank.

Physical symptoms dictated that I had to stay home, with very little to look forward to and only my own company, whilst the world carried on without me.

This loneliness was again enforced upon me and whilst the thought of 3 months of TV watching, lying on the sofa might appeal to some, it was a time steeped in anxiety and concern for the work I had to leave behind but imminently return to. I couldn’t settle, felt dreadfully ill and my loved ones’ concern was written all over their faces and it was soul destroying.

I remember glimmers of joy in this dark period, lunch dates on a Friday with my husband to look forward to, at a local cafe bar, feeling guilt as I was still ‘off sick’ but knowing if I didn’t go out at all, I would retreat further inward.

Eventually, I returned to work but then chose my ending, seeking time back at home to consider properly what might come next.

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And finally in 2020, some ‘little known’ world phenomenon descended upon us, where we were instructed to ‘stay home’ in some kind of 1984 George Orwell style. For a mother and teenage daughter who were constantly ‘on the go’ and viewed home as a place only to sleep, this was hugely traumatic.

Whilst we didn’t appreciate at the time, this was due to our ADHD, we felt like the rug had been pulled from beneath our increasingly itchy feet and loneliness enveloped us both once more.

It is bleaker times, such as these, that being alone can result in ‘loneliness’. You’ll have heard the phrase “you can feel lonely in a room full of people” and this can indeed be true.

I felt it whilst sat in the lecture rooms, the mother and baby groups, the hospital ward and the street full of folks who came out to clap on a Thursday night.

Your home, your sanctuary, can end up resembling a prison cell.

I found this massively damaging. Our homes should feel like they represent us, allow us to be the ‘real, authentic’ versions of ourselves and not somewhere we long to escape from.

Only in this period of my life, abandoned by my parents (through death, not any act of intention of course), and taking time from a profession which never gave me more than a minute without a thought of a lesson plan, can I now actively ‘plan’ for time on my own.

A friend recently signposted me to a book by Julia Cameron- ‘The Artist’s way’ where she advocates an Artist’s Day, where we plan time each week to do something that allows us to be creative and “find our inner youngster”.

If we don’t plan some time with ourselves, we don’t attribute any worth to ourselves. We aren’t topping up our tanks and aren’t allowing for growth.

When growing older, we can jump from prioritising our parent role, maybe not changing nappies anymore, but ensuring your adult child is nurtured, supported and encouraged in the way you were.

To the carer for your ever-fading parents, who became increasingly dependent on you for their every need.

Both situations, for which I feel blessed to have had, resulted in a primal need to be alone and properly alone, embracing every moment of grateful solitude.

For it is only when being alone, we can process where we are at, what we need to serve us and where we want to be heading. Being alone now feels like a privilege and one we must treasure, not fear!

Being alone is not one of the losses I am writing about.

It has definitely over the years become a gain. In this time of grief and missing those we have ‘lost’, we must treasure the times we had them with us and what we learnt from them.

When friends now talk about times spent with their loved ones, I no longer feel resentment, although the sound of laughter from neighbouring gardens at family gatherings has been known to ‘sting’ - I feel compelled to tell them to snatch every bit of time you can, as none of us know when that chance will not be there.

In solitude - not loneliness- I feel free from the compulsion to be busy all the time. I schedule plenty of time to be on my own and know that his will lead to me feeling ‘complete’ – not starved, not wrung out, not compromised – but just me.

Do you appreciate and experience solitude in your own life?

This is an adaptation of a chapter in my book Love, Labour and Loss.

Reviews include:

For saying this is Joanna's first published book it is thought provoking and sensitively written about so many different aspects of life that we all may experience in one way or another. You definitely find yourself resonating with the words on the page which are perfectly formed and finds you wanting to read another chapter. Looking forward to her next book....

Jo's writing is so honest and thought provoking, you know her written words are not only healing herself but also the reader. A warm hug in a book, a reminder that feeling deeply is good and trauma doesn't have to define you and you can come through the other side. I enjoyed every chapter.

I wasn't sure what to expect from this book...what I got was a warm, honest and authentic story full of hope, love and laughter shining out from the some difficult experiences. This book was so relatable and will stay with me for a long time. A truly great debut book.

This thought-provoking book is full of hope, I loved the strength and amazing resilience that flowed through the narrative. This is a book dealing with difficult times and situations but love and honesty shines through.

Thankyou and please let me know your thoughts. 💭