Walking out of spin class yesterday, I felt it: that quick pang of loneliness as fellow spinners paired off into conversation while I changed out of my shoes. I was not being deliberately excluded or avoided. Too sweaty and out of breath, I did not make an attempt to get involved. These things happen. Yet, that little surge—that feeling of being on the outside—was there.
As a human, I am no stranger to loneliness. No one is, really.
Coming out of pandemic life and settling further into a digital age that often leaves us social but far from connected, it’s no wonder that we’ve been seeing a rise in reports, podcast episodes, articles, and personal responses to what the U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory have called an “Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation.” Our current moment is ripe for the breakdown of personal connection, compassion, and empathy as we hide, divide, and pull back into our corners.
But I’ve been wrestling a bit with how we’ve been talking about this widespread sense of loneliness. The more I read or listen, the more I have experienced a little cringe here, a furrowed brow there. But instead of shrugging my shoulders and moving on, I let myself linger: Why is all this talk about loneliness bugging me?
My concern is not that loneliness has been given the spotlight. As one who regularly (as regularly as last night) feels lack in relationships, I will be the first to raise my hand to say that loneliness is worth our time, attention, and care. It’s not the subject matter that irks me, but the words we are using. The way in which we talk about this core human experience matters—not only in how we respond to our own ache but also to the widespread ache of others.
Peeling back the layers of my initial cringing, what I have found are two concerns about what we say (or don’t say) about our shared loneliness, and I hope they will be a starting point for further conversation, both here and as we go out into our everyday lives.
1. Loneliness is not a symptom of a disease in need of healing, but a signpost pointing us toward what is good.
The language we use matters, because loneliness itself is not the “problem,” as some articles frame it. Yes, loneliness left unattended or ignored can morph into mental, emotional, and physical struggles, as cited by the U.S. Surgeon General’s report. I have seen firsthand in my years as a student development professional on college campuses what happens when young adults spend too many hours alone in their rooms or struggle to make friends that first semester. The disconnect can become debilitating.
But where I think we get it wrong is that loneliness is not the root issue but rather a messenger trying to tell us something deeply human: that we need each other.
We are communal creatures. From the moment we are born, we are dependent on another person for sustenance and care. Whether that person is a mother or a nurse or a pair of arms we may never know outside those first few breaths, we cannot survive alone. Even as we grow into increased independence, that need for another person remains central to who we are, and loneliness is simply an outcry of the narrative that God named from the beginning: “It is not good…to be alone” (Gen. 2:18 CSB).
Problems form when do not give attention to what loneliness is trying to tell us—in ourselves or in each other. Loneliness left alone easily twists into isolation as we look away, pull back, dehumanize, and divide, leaving us alone in our most fragile moments.
Maybe it’s a matter of semantics. Maybe it’s good enough that we all want people to feel a little less alone. But I think it’s deeper than that, because the more we frame loneliness as the core problem, the more shame we will feel when it surfaces and the less likely we will be to lean in with love and compassion.
2. The word epidemic seems insurmountable.
Phew. Epidemic. What a word. While I recognize the experts need language to contain the breadth and depth of what people within the United States are experiencing, little-old-me struggles to know how to respond to a problem of such epic proportions. The magnitude seems to outreach what I can do from here.
But that’s far from the truth.
While I do not doubt loneliness is on the rise, I am perhaps a bit jaded by the idea that epidemic-sized-concerns warrant epidemic-sized-action. Yes, our loneliness might be large when put together on a scale, but in my experience, we cannot manufacture belonging. Deep connection is not formed through mass action, legislation, church-wide programming, or universal mandates. Friendships are grown slowly, person by person, as trust builds over time, so while our loneliness is far-reaching, our responses must begin within the common, everyday corners of our lives.
We can start small, with the people right in front of us. The child tugging on our shirtsleeves. The stranger who says hello at WalMart. The new neighbor a few houses down. The gesture does not have to be grand (here’s a great list of small ideas from author Shannan Martin). Rather, we can simply start where we are and be willing to take one step closer.
Loneliness is part of being human, swirling around and through us like a common thread. The more we can normalize experiences of feeling lonely or out of place, the more we can diminish the negative ways we tend to view it and lean in to the important work of paying attention to what loneliness is saying. We can begin to know and name the ache when it swells within us and to look at it gently. We can become the person we want others to be for us.
Because when we can greet the longing with familiarity rather than malice or shame, we can let loneliness lead us toward compassion and connection. We can let loneliness point us toward each other and our common good.
Whenever I write, I want you to know I’m opening a door to conversation, and when it comes to loneliness, there’s so much more to be said. As you reflect on your own experiences, I would love to hear your personal stories, thoughts, insights, and ideas as we walk this sometimes-lonely road together. How are you seeing, experiencing, and responding to loneliness in your everyday life? Let’s talk about it.
I have been through seasons of this.I tried my best to use groups in public and online to feel this strong emotion of loneliness.I didn’t grow up constantly with lots of family or a sibling close to my age.Reading takes me places as well that cause loneliness to fade.
Your observations are beautifully kind and helpful and true. Loneliness is a place to start.