Have you ever been lonely? I have. When I was being brought up by my single parent mum, I spent a lot of time on my own. Sometimes, I didn’t like it, especially when it was cold and dark and I was waiting for her to get home from work, but therein lay the solution: she would eventually be home with me. I wasn’t lonely in the regular sense of the word because there was an end to being on my in sight. And, as I grew up, I began to enjoy long periods of solitude on the basis that it wouldn’t last forever. Not everyone is so lucky.
When my mum left me in our house to move in with her new partner, then I discovered what loneliness meant. And with no end to being alone in sight, I would find myself getting very depressed. Every night, I would go to the pub to seek out company and every night I would go home alone, feeling as bad as if I had never been out at all. Having experienced loneliness on a relatively minor scale and in any event enjoying periods of isolation, nonetheless I am very well aware of how awful, I call it anaesthetising, it can be. Which brings me to Christmas.
I am very lucky. I shall spend Christmas with much of my family, although a substantial chunk of my family is across the pond in Canada so Christ alone knows when I will see them again and that really, really hurts, and that means everything. Even though my human condition makes it appear I am somewhat antisocial – my partner will happily tell you there is no need to insert ‘somewhat’ into that sentence – the thought of being away from those I love is one I’d rather not think about. A part of my life feels like it’s not worth living if I am not with the people I love the most. But what about those who are unlucky?
Having Googled the internet, there are various estimates of how many people will be lonely this Christmas, but with pensioners alone the figure is in the hundreds of thousands. When I settle down to over-indulge, I can join in with games, watch movies and generally converse, unless I want some me time. I can choose. But my heart sinks when I think about people who are not looking forward to a day when everything is closed and no one else wants to see you. And in our life, if we know someone in that position, they will not be lonely if they don’t want to be. They will not be have to watch Mrs Brown’s Boys or Call The Midwife in a quiet back room, all on their own. No one should have to watch Mrs Brown’s Boys, lonely or not to be fair.
in my previous jobs, it was part of my remit to restore some form of normality to people who were, for one reason or another, alone. This was life-changing for me and my attitude about loneliness has changed forever.
I’m not lecturing anyone – how very dare I, given my dismal record in helping lonely people over the years? – but I am going to do my bit this year. Loneliness is a horrible thing. If I can help just one person, I’m going to do it.
