Several times over the past year I have been told “you just need to learn how to be alone.” One person went so far as to tell me that my need to be loved is proof that I am damaged, and that they will know that I am healed when I realize that I am complete in and of myself and that I don’t need anyone else in life.
This advice always, without fail, comes from people who have never experienced true social and emotional isolation. They mean well, but they have no understanding of what it means to truly be alone.
The sad reality is that there is a pandemic of social and emotional isolation that is poisoning our nation, if not the entire world. The surgeon general has declared social isolation to be a public health crisis, and both the Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization are researching the problem and seeking ways to combat the growing epidemic. It is not a silent killer; major news organizations often do features on the problem,2often blaming social media. Yet in spite of the fact that we know the extreme dangers of isolation and loneliness, our society actively encourages solitude and shames those that admit to a longing for companionship.
You don’t need a partner. Just get a sex toy.
Intimacy and togetherness have been reduced to nothing more than an orgasm and dismissed as unnecessary.
A sex toy won’t laugh at your jokes. A sex toy won’t cook dinner with you and talk to you about your day. A sex toy won’t hold you and stroke your hair while you watch movies together.
If you want these things, as I do, you are not broken or damaged. You are not weak. You do not need to change. There is nothing wrong with you.
It is perfectly normal to want to have someone to do these things with you. It is natural to want a partner. It is HUMAN.
The problem goes far beyond just lacking an intimate partner. Many people lack basic friendships as well. Some people have a spouse with whom they have a perfectly satisfactory relationship, but they still experience profound loneliness because they lack platonic friendships.
According to the Berkman-Syme Social Network Index, which physicians use to determine whether someone is “socially isolated,” people are considered isolated if they have fewer than six confidants, no spouse and no group affiliations. Not all “friendships” are created equal. The index does not generalize as to whether a person has people who identify as “friends.” It asks with specificity “How many close friends do you have, people that you feel at ease with, can talk to about private matters?”
It can be hard to be open with people about how one truly thinks and feels. A person can have dozens of people who will call themselves their friend, and still lack anyone that they can talk to on a day-to-day basis about the status of their lives.
Using medical standards, I have experienced extreme social isolation for most of my life. Even during my marriage I lacked anyone with whom I could share my true thoughts. While I have fortunately avoided any impacts to my physical health, my mental health has suffered severely, and continues to do so.
It is an incredibly hard thing to be a gregarious, expressive person who feels the need to lock themselves inside of their own head because most people are not comfortable with who they truly are. It hurts to deliberately limit one’s contact with others because you know they won’t approve of what you really think or feel. It sucks being different.
The pressure to conform is overwhelming, and for a very long time I acquiesced. When I finally gave up on “fake it til you make it,” only one person I know openly welcomed my true identity. That person is now gone from my life, and that loss was far more difficult to bear than any of the others I have experienced since daring to reveal myself to the world.
All the other people in my life declared me to have “changed,” and they definitely considered these “changes” to be for the worse. No one expressed excitement to meet the secret self I have kept carefully hidden all these years. No one expressed sadness that I have never felt comfortable revealing the way I identify within the confines of my own mind.
Instead, I have been pressured to learn to see myself the way others see me. I have been told that I need to learn to love the version of me that they like, the version of me that makes them feel comfortable.
I know everything about the version of me that other people like. She isn’t a mystery to me. I invented her the same way I invent all my fictional characters. She is imaginary. I don’t need to learn to love her. I need to find people who are able to see the version of me that I like. I need to find people who love the real me as much as I do. Because the me that exists inside my head is pretty fucking fabulous.
I have been told that letting go of my facade opened me up to dark forces and that I need to find my way back to the light. It was painfully reminiscent of all the times my childhood abuser told me that I had a demon inside of me. My life did not fall apart because of some unseen metaphysical force. In reality, my life fell apart because I wanted to stop pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and when I did so I faced rejection after rejection until I was broken down completely.
My life fell apart because I lack solid emotional connections. It is a simple as that.
The person I am right now is the same person I was twenty years ago. I was so ashamed of that young woman that I went to great lengths to bury her deep inside where no one could see or reach her. Norman actively encouraged this, spending years “helping” me to become the kind of person with whom he wouldn’t be ashamed of being seen in public. That is the person that has been walking around in my shoes for the past 15 years. That is the only person that many of my acquaintances ever met. All the problems in my life started the moment I began to love the woman I have always been and stop hiding her away. My breakdown came when I realized that Norman was right, and no one wants to be around or even talk to her.
I do not believe there is now or has ever been any darkness inside of me. I believe that much of my pain and struggle in life has been because I am actually a creature of pure gentleness and love.
I see the best in everyone. That is what made me such an incredible public defender. I can forgive any transgression against me. I do not hate my abusers; I pity them. In spite of all the horrors I have endured, I am not cynical or vindictive.
I was angry for a while. Very much so. I was bitter about feeling forced into a life I didn’t want. I was hurt by all the people who turned their backs on me when I stopped hiding who I really am. I was resentful about being banished back to my own personal hell and abandoned to face the terrible memories and agonizing nightmares alone. Fortunately, the anger has now passed.
My heart is, was, and always will be welcoming and open. It’s my favorite thing about me, even when it leads me into bad situations. (Hello, Norman)
It is profoundly sad that the people in my life seem to have no interest in knowing my true identity. It hurts deeply that my phone only rings when someone wants free legal advice. It’s hard knowing that the only thing about me that anyone really values is a stupid degree that I got entirely by accident because some guy wanted me to.
Hard, but not unexpected.
I have once again grown used to the silence. My phone is merely for listening to music or audiobooks. Half the time I don’t even have it on me. There is simply no point in carrying it around.
I am far from the only person who suffers in this manner. And this is the hardest time of year to have to endure such pain. Even those who don’t celebrate christmas are forced to face constant reminders of what they do not have in their lives. For the next two months we will be bombarded with “feel good” messages about togetherness and the importance of family and friends. To those who go weeks or even months without having a genuine conversation with another human being, it can feel like torture.
I am actually quite fortunate. I have a rich internal life. I can sit quietly for long periods of time doing nothing except listening to the voices inside my head. Although I am often lonely, I am rarely bored.
Not everyone has these gifts. Many people are unable to simply create imaginary friends with whom to converse and have invisible adventures. These people rely on the creations of others to fill the voids in their lives. Entertainment is not mere frivolity; television and books and music provide much needed companionship for millions of people. Characters are larger than fiction. They are often friends.
It has occurred to me that I can use my own solitude to comfort others. I can create fictional people that they can carry with them into the darkness. I can talk about my life, which for all its flaws has certainly been very interesting. I can talk about books and movies and music and yes, even the law, because that is a part of me now, though I maintain it is far from the best part.
Right now my audience is as imaginary as my characters. But the internet is a vast and boundless place and there is always the possibility that my words will find their way to someone who deeply needs them and provide some comfort and companionship in the darkness.
If you are lonely, I will be right here, talking to you. If you need to, you can talk back. You can write in the comments. You can email me at mae@becomingalternative.com. You can tell me your troubles and your pain. I will listen to you. I will not judge you.
I will CARE about you.
You matter. Not only to yourself, but as part of a community.
“Over four decades of research has produced robust evidence that lacking social connection— and in particular, scoring high on measures of social isolation—is associated with a significantly increased risk for early death from all causes.” 2020 Consensus Study Report, National Academies of Sciences Engineering and Medicine ↩︎
Googling “New York Times social isolation” results in over a dozen results in the past few years alone. I didn’t link any of their articles because they put a paywall on every damn thing. ↩︎
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Lonely No More
Several times over the past year I have been told “you just need to learn how to be alone.” One person went so far as to tell me that my need to be loved is proof that I am damaged, and that they will know that I am healed when I realize that I am complete in and of myself and that I don’t need anyone else in life.
This advice always, without fail, comes from people who have never experienced true social and emotional isolation. They mean well, but they have no understanding of what it means to truly be alone.
“Just learn to be alone” is incredibly toxic advice. It is incorrect from an anthropological and a biological standpoint. Human beings are pack animals. Loneliness kills.1 There’s a reason 42 states have limited or outright banned the use of solitary confinement on prisoners. Some experts suggest solitary confinement may actually be a form of torture.
The sad reality is that there is a pandemic of social and emotional isolation that is poisoning our nation, if not the entire world. The surgeon general has declared social isolation to be a public health crisis, and both the Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization are researching the problem and seeking ways to combat the growing epidemic. It is not a silent killer; major news organizations often do features on the problem,2 often blaming social media. Yet in spite of the fact that we know the extreme dangers of isolation and loneliness, our society actively encourages solitude and shames those that admit to a longing for companionship.
You don’t need a partner. Just get a sex toy.
Intimacy and togetherness have been reduced to nothing more than an orgasm and dismissed as unnecessary.
A sex toy won’t laugh at your jokes. A sex toy won’t cook dinner with you and talk to you about your day. A sex toy won’t hold you and stroke your hair while you watch movies together.
If you want these things, as I do, you are not broken or damaged. You are not weak. You do not need to change. There is nothing wrong with you.
It is perfectly normal to want to have someone to do these things with you. It is natural to want a partner. It is HUMAN.
The problem goes far beyond just lacking an intimate partner. Many people lack basic friendships as well. Some people have a spouse with whom they have a perfectly satisfactory relationship, but they still experience profound loneliness because they lack platonic friendships.
Human beings are by nature social creatures. We require a pack to thrive. Even introverts need someone to talk to now and then.
According to the Berkman-Syme Social Network Index, which physicians use to determine whether someone is “socially isolated,” people are considered isolated if they have fewer than six confidants, no spouse and no group affiliations. Not all “friendships” are created equal. The index does not generalize as to whether a person has people who identify as “friends.” It asks with specificity “How many close friends do you have, people that you feel at ease with, can talk to about private matters?”
It can be hard to be open with people about how one truly thinks and feels. A person can have dozens of people who will call themselves their friend, and still lack anyone that they can talk to on a day-to-day basis about the status of their lives.
Using medical standards, I have experienced extreme social isolation for most of my life. Even during my marriage I lacked anyone with whom I could share my true thoughts. While I have fortunately avoided any impacts to my physical health, my mental health has suffered severely, and continues to do so.
It is an incredibly hard thing to be a gregarious, expressive person who feels the need to lock themselves inside of their own head because most people are not comfortable with who they truly are. It hurts to deliberately limit one’s contact with others because you know they won’t approve of what you really think or feel. It sucks being different.
The pressure to conform is overwhelming, and for a very long time I acquiesced. When I finally gave up on “fake it til you make it,” only one person I know openly welcomed my true identity. That person is now gone from my life, and that loss was far more difficult to bear than any of the others I have experienced since daring to reveal myself to the world.
All the other people in my life declared me to have “changed,” and they definitely considered these “changes” to be for the worse. No one expressed excitement to meet the secret self I have kept carefully hidden all these years. No one expressed sadness that I have never felt comfortable revealing the way I identify within the confines of my own mind.
Instead, I have been pressured to learn to see myself the way others see me. I have been told that I need to learn to love the version of me that they like, the version of me that makes them feel comfortable.
Be yourself. Unless other people don’t like it.3
I know everything about the version of me that other people like. She isn’t a mystery to me. I invented her the same way I invent all my fictional characters. She is imaginary. I don’t need to learn to love her. I need to find people who are able to see the version of me that I like. I need to find people who love the real me as much as I do. Because the me that exists inside my head is pretty fucking fabulous.
I have been told that letting go of my facade opened me up to dark forces and that I need to find my way back to the light. It was painfully reminiscent of all the times my childhood abuser told me that I had a demon inside of me. My life did not fall apart because of some unseen metaphysical force. In reality, my life fell apart because I wanted to stop pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and when I did so I faced rejection after rejection until I was broken down completely.
My life fell apart because I lack solid emotional connections. It is a simple as that.
The person I am right now is the same person I was twenty years ago. I was so ashamed of that young woman that I went to great lengths to bury her deep inside where no one could see or reach her. Norman actively encouraged this, spending years “helping” me to become the kind of person with whom he wouldn’t be ashamed of being seen in public. That is the person that has been walking around in my shoes for the past 15 years. That is the only person that many of my acquaintances ever met. All the problems in my life started the moment I began to love the woman I have always been and stop hiding her away. My breakdown came when I realized that Norman was right, and no one wants to be around or even talk to her.
I do not believe there is now or has ever been any darkness inside of me. I believe that much of my pain and struggle in life has been because I am actually a creature of pure gentleness and love.
I see the best in everyone. That is what made me such an incredible public defender. I can forgive any transgression against me. I do not hate my abusers; I pity them. In spite of all the horrors I have endured, I am not cynical or vindictive.
I was angry for a while. Very much so. I was bitter about feeling forced into a life I didn’t want. I was hurt by all the people who turned their backs on me when I stopped hiding who I really am. I was resentful about being banished back to my own personal hell and abandoned to face the terrible memories and agonizing nightmares alone. Fortunately, the anger has now passed.
My heart is, was, and always will be welcoming and open. It’s my favorite thing about me, even when it leads me into bad situations. (Hello, Norman)
It is profoundly sad that the people in my life seem to have no interest in knowing my true identity. It hurts deeply that my phone only rings when someone wants free legal advice. It’s hard knowing that the only thing about me that anyone really values is a stupid degree that I got entirely by accident because some guy wanted me to.
Hard, but not unexpected.
I have once again grown used to the silence. My phone is merely for listening to music or audiobooks. Half the time I don’t even have it on me. There is simply no point in carrying it around.
I am far from the only person who suffers in this manner. And this is the hardest time of year to have to endure such pain. Even those who don’t celebrate christmas are forced to face constant reminders of what they do not have in their lives. For the next two months we will be bombarded with “feel good” messages about togetherness and the importance of family and friends. To those who go weeks or even months without having a genuine conversation with another human being, it can feel like torture.
I am actually quite fortunate. I have a rich internal life. I can sit quietly for long periods of time doing nothing except listening to the voices inside my head. Although I am often lonely, I am rarely bored.
Not everyone has these gifts. Many people are unable to simply create imaginary friends with whom to converse and have invisible adventures. These people rely on the creations of others to fill the voids in their lives. Entertainment is not mere frivolity; television and books and music provide much needed companionship for millions of people. Characters are larger than fiction. They are often friends.
It has occurred to me that I can use my own solitude to comfort others. I can create fictional people that they can carry with them into the darkness. I can talk about my life, which for all its flaws has certainly been very interesting. I can talk about books and movies and music and yes, even the law, because that is a part of me now, though I maintain it is far from the best part.
Right now my audience is as imaginary as my characters. But the internet is a vast and boundless place and there is always the possibility that my words will find their way to someone who deeply needs them and provide some comfort and companionship in the darkness.
If you are lonely, I will be right here, talking to you. If you need to, you can talk back. You can write in the comments. You can email me at mae@becomingalternative.com. You can tell me your troubles and your pain. I will listen to you. I will not judge you.
I will CARE about you.
You matter. Not only to yourself, but as part of a community.
You are not alone.
I am with you.
Just don’t ask me for legal advice.
Becoming Alternative is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, please consider subscribing to my substack at https://becomingalternative.substack.com/ or making a one time gift at https://venmo.com/u/rmfontenot
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