Lots of people experience loneliness. It can affect anyone, anywhere, at any time. The periods of enforced isolation during the COVID pandemic led to increased incidences of loneliness for many people.
Loneliness is a dangerous place to be. It is associated with a greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, depression and anxiety. It seems odd to think that loneliness might actually be life-threatening but an analysis of numerous studies found that living with loneliness increases the risk of dying early more than living with air pollution, obesity, or excessive drinking.[i]
The absence, or failure, of meaningful social interaction lies at the heart of loneliness. As a social species, we can feel shame about being lonely – even if that loneliness is brought on by external factors – and that feeling of shame can make us even more reluctant to reach out and connect with others.
My own experience of loneliness is one which might resonate with some of you. A few years ago, I suffered coercive abuse from someone I loved and who, I thought, loved me. I had no idea how this had happened to me; I had worked in social work, I had numerous training sessions about domestic abuse and I knew all the signs. But it’s different when it’s you.
I think my knowledge and training made the shame worse, and the failure more difficult to cope with. On top of that, all my friends and family seemed to be in loving and successful relationships and I wanted to be in one too – to fit in, to feel ‘normal’.
I really don’t know how it happened. I’ll spare you the unpleasant details but, in the two years I was in this relationship, I had slowly lost me. I remember one time looking in the mirror and not knowing the person looking back at me. It felt awful. I had always known who I was. I was strong, independent and free spirited and I’d given that all away in the name of love and wanting to fit in with the societal norms of being in a relationship.
He had taken EVERYTHING, and left owing me several thousand pounds. In one go I had lost my relationship, my business, my home and me! I was at my lowest point. I had to rebuild my life and me and I was on my own again.
Loneliness is a strange thing. I wasn’t alone - I had amazing support from all of my friends and family, and without them I wouldn’t have got through it. But I was lonely.
I literally had to start again. Find a new home, find full time employment and dissolve my business.
The mornings, evenings and Sundays were the worst. Everyone around me had a partner, had someone to wake up with, talk to about their day, share stories with, do things with but I didn’t and I hated it. I was incredibly lonely even with a wonderfully supportive network of friends and family.
I lived in a beautiful, small and friendly village. I didn’t want to leave the village and, in March 2015, I was lucky enough to find a lovely little cottage in the heart of the village to move into - perfect for rebuilding me and my life.
It was tough starting again. Hurt, anger, shame and embarrassment were just a few of the feelings I had to contend with. I knew I had to withdraw from the world for a while to regain some strength.
Once I had settled into my cottage and found full time employment, I made the decision which changed my life for the better – I decided to get a puppy. So, in December 2015 I got Alfie – the cutest Labrador pup I had ever seen.
Then in January 2016 I got Izzy, a senior black Labrador cross. I rescued her as her owner died from cancer and her family were unable to keep her. I had no idea how it was going to work. An old dog with a puppy in a tiny cottage spelt disaster! But it was amazing. Izzy had the softest of souls, was independent and free sprinted. I fell in love with her instantly.
At first Izzy wasn’t keen living with a puppy. Alfie was clumsy - knocking onto her painful joints, as he just wanted to be next to her all the time. He also wanted to play with her but Izzy was in too much pain for that. Alfie adored Izzy. She did grow to love him and she even taught him to swim.
Unfortunately, Izzy wasn’t as well as we first thought, and needed regular trips to the vets. She was so good and responded well to all the treatment. She took it all in stride and was soon enjoying life again.
With all the appointments (medical and training) for both dogs and working full time, I was busier than ever. Walking a dog (or dogs) is a wonderful way to meet and talk to people. We British are a strange bunch; we can walk past a stranger without so much as a nod of acknowledgement or even making eye contact but, if they’re walking a dog, we will happily stop and chat for ages! Maybe we are more inclined to trust those people whom dogs already trust?
I was meeting all sorts of people, and just loving having the two dogs. I was rebuilding my life, and finding me again and it was wonderful.
However, on Sunday 09 December 2018, a cold snowy day, Izzy had a stroke. Unfortunately, the stroke was so bad she couldn’t recover and that afternoon, on the advice of the vet, she was put to sleep. She died in my arms. I was devastated - a huge part of me and my life was gone.
I am thankful I had Alfie to help me through that grief. Alfie - this amazing, happy, bouncy, cuddly dog who loves me unconditionally. He is my saviour. He was and still is the most amazing dog. Even people who don’t like dogs seem to love Alfie. Just about everyone in the village knows Alfie and they recognise him before they recognise me.
The world works in funny ways. The following week I was having a trustee induction at a local charity, and one of the managers asked me why I wanted to be a trustee for this particular charity. The answer was simple - it was where I started my career in the 90s, and where I had met Dan, my then mentor. I mentioned that Dan and I had become great friends whilst I volunteered at this charity, and a couple of years later after we had both moved on from that charity, we became partners.
We split up just before he moved back to Australia and our relationship, which had been cordial, broke down. We hadn’t spoken in 17 years. I said I assumed he was still there. The manager informed me that Dan had, in fact, returned to the UK and was living and working nearby. She kindly gave me his work mobile number which, after sleeping on it, I rang and left a message.
He called me back, and we arranged to meet up. He was in a relationship which was in its death throes and, when she left him, I was there to support him. A few months later, we got back together, moved into together and set up our business, Kiltti, together. Dan is my soul mate. He was when we first met, and still is.
I can’t believe how much my life has changed in seven years. I’m happy and free again. I know and like myself, and I’m in a wonderful and equal partnership with Dan. I’m no longer lonely. I still have deep scars from the abusive relationship, that every now and again come back to test me, to see if I have fully recovered. I think that will always happen, but now Dan is there to talk things through with and to remind me that I am loved. Life isn’t perfect, but it is what you make it, and I plan to make it as happy and kind as I can.
[i] Dr Brene Brown, Atlas of the Heart, Vermilion, 2021
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