Loneliness

There's a certain type of loneliness you experience when you’ve been single for a long time. It’s  not the same as being alone; it’s not isolation. You have your friends and your family that care about you, but this isn't the cure. There’s a longing that comes out to haunt you, it sits dormant somewhere amongst all the complexities of your mind. It can be repressed, of course, but it finds you. It comes along suddenly. Unexpectedly, there’s a little pang felt at the bottom of your chest that jumps out when you feel at a low point. This can be sparked in a multitude of ways; couples posting pictures of a proposal, two twenty-year olds sitting down for a loving coffee date when you’re on your own with nothing but a novel for company. It’s listening to all your friends talk about stories of their love lives; ranging from the heart-warming intricacies that hold together a long-term relationship to the short exhilaration of a fling. Yet there you are, left with nothing to say. It feels like there’s a whole part of the world you’re not experiencing; a brand-new song that everyone’s hearing, but you can’t find it anywhere. You’re desperately trying to figure out what the formula is, how people are managing to experience romantic love in a way that seems so effortless, and every time you come to the most hard-hitting conclusion of all: there isn’t one. 

The feeling of being completely isolated from relationships is not new to me, I have been single for most of my life. This specific loneliness I’m referring to is not the same as being unable to enjoy your own company, in fact, I’d argue it’s almost the opposite. It’s when you’ve appreciated yourself for so long, you begin to desire the reassurance that someone else could do the same. It’s the urge of wanting to cook a meal for two rather than one, or to enjoy a new series with another person, not just yourself. This is not to say you’re without love, but it is to crave a certain type that you’re not used to. After all, we crave what we cannot have. It’s not the same as longing for a new phone, coat or satin pillow for your bed that you cannot get your hands on. These things are all material, trends will come and go, you will find replacements. You cannot curate romantic love out of nothing, it does not come to you just because you feel worthy of it. It doesn’t matter if you’d be the best partner in the entire world, that doesn’t mean that another person will suddenly appear through sheer magic. 

I was in a card shop earlier this week and I found myself – almost tauntingly – in the Valentine’s day section. There was a card so perfect that I couldn’t leave it behind. I told myself that I would keep it stored away until the next time I ever need it; whether that be in two years, five or however many it takes. That is what you do when you’re a hopeless romantic, and that’s perfectly okay. Anyone who has felt this specific loneliness before, we are in solidarity. It is not shameful to admit that sometimes we long for romantic love. Whenever it hits you, search for the other types of love that are existing around you, weaving themselves into everyday life. Find it in the love you have when you’re at a loud pub laughing with all your friends, or when you’re walking through the park with your dog excitedly bounding ahead, or when you’re dancing along to your favourite Spotify playlist in your bedroom. Life is not a curated story where all the good parts come at once, so remember to appreciate all the worthy elements you have already. These will keep you feeling whole whenever the loneliness hits.