Loneliness and Connection.

I sometimes feel lonely, you know, and it always surprises me when I do. It surprises me because I've always been a loner to some extent, and the older I get the more entrenched it becomes. Even in my young days when I took part in group activities -- the wolf cubs, the Boys Brigade, a class of 30 or so at school, sports teams, an office full of people -- I always wanted to do my own thing in my own way. When I played sport I was never a team player. I played it because I enjoyed playing it; and I played it to the best of my ability purely for my own sake. I found those pep talks given by the captain at half time pointless and irritating because pep talks didn't apply to me. And it's a solid fact that I wouldn't want to live any other way than alone. Having my private space invaded by other people is seriously deleterious to my mood. It's happening at the moment with the builders, and an email I received this morning indicates that I will have to suffer it again soon in a different way. Hideous. So why should I feel lonely sometimes?

Well, I gather that some clever psychologist has spent a lot of hours studying the phenomenon of loneliness and has concluded that it has little to do with how many people we have around us, but is more about how connected we feel to other people generally. That's the point at which it becomes complicated because the term 'connected' can be interpreted more than one way. And yet it might give a clue to my dilemma. 

Sometimes when I'm walking around the lanes or through a wood I feel a subtle sense of being in some way out of step. I try to analyse it and the first word that comes to mind is 'disconnected.' I admit to feeling a slight sense of connection to the trees and animals, but no real connection with those I pass on the lane or those who pass me in cars (with maybe one exception, but that's an unwonted complication to this little ramble.) Fortunately, I'm well practiced in appearing mostly normal in situations where such an appearance is required, so I don't get driven away and incarcerated in some institution for those with mental conditions beginning with 'dissociative...' At least not yet.

 

But maybe it's part of the reason why I've been obsessively interested in mortality for so long. I'm seeking to know whether, when I take the last train out, I can have confidence in the fact that its destination will be a place with which I can feel some sense of connection.