While reading this post about Virginia Woolf, I was reminded of an internal and eternal dialogue pondering the question of how we perceive 'alone' and 'lonely'. The problem is that the two are not synonymous, although the wide perception often is. 'Alone' is not always 'lonely'. Yet, we are conditioned to think that anyone that is alone is 'lonely'.
Semantically, 'alone' can mean 'solitude'. A person can be literally alone: by one's self away from other people. It may feel comfortable or uncomfortable. I can be alone, the only human on a mountain top, and not lonely; I feel solitude and connected to all life round me. Likewise, a person can be 'alone' and unconnected in a crowd of people, but comfortable with it. It's usually a choice. It's less about our circumstance, but how we react to them.*
But 'loneliness' is less ambiguous: it's a feeling of being alone, unconnected, and not liking it. Both are internal states, but loneliness is less related to what is going on around us. It's a fear of solitude.
Individually there is a wide area-under-the-curve for each on what is comfortable and what is not. Yet, the cultural definition and expectations for everyone, including children, are quite narrow and contradictory. We are expected to know ourselves, but to always be 'social', e.g. with other people. Unfortunately, too many people don't know themselves, or are uncomfortable being alone with themselves. They fear it.
So it's an illusion, created by ourselves and society.
In the medical community and the public mindset people are expected to always be surrounded by other people. Those that prefer to be alone are almost always considered 'unwell' or 'abnormal' because, culturally, 'alone' = 'lonely'. Then comes the judgement deluge.
Those two terms don't take into consideration the time element: always, occasionally, mostly, etc. Those adverbs are important because they quantify the the amount of alone time. Or even when feeling lonely.
Some people feel they have to be with another person, or amongst other people, all the time. I've known a few people (mostly women, but a few men, too) who almost have panic attacks when they are alone. Their loneliness is overwhelming, usually because they don't know themselves, or they fear being alone with themselves. Perhaps they even fear not knowing themselves; they lack self-esteem.
There's also a gender bias: women are expected to always be surrounded by people, and in a personal relationship with another (usually a man, but that's another topic...). Men.... not so much, if at all. In a few countries, cultural acceptance of a woman alone in public, especially without a male, is prohibitive. It's like requiring your dog on a leash when in public.
Alternatively, because I'm a woman that prefers solitude most of the time and lives alone the all too-common perception is that I'm lonely. I've had to fend off questions and comments from others implying judgement, such as pity or concern of unwellness. Especially, 'You don't have a man so you must be lonely and helpless'. Or, 'There's something wrong with you.' That's the expectation associated with perceptions of 'alone' and 'loneliness' of many women.
'Alone' and 'lonely' are illusions we create about ourselves and others (Virginia Woolf refers to it as 'a reality', which is partly correct). And with those illusions, we place judgement and expectations on ourselves and others. We celebrate self-esteem. But we stigmatize spending time with the person we should know, and like, the best: ourselves.
Woolf's writings exemplified the strong pervasive feelings of loneliness and the illusions of it. In a diary entry she wrote of this as being a 'reality':
"That is one of the experiences I have had...and got then to a consciousness of what I call “reality”: a thing I see before me: something abstract; but residing in the downs or sky; beside which nothing matters; in which I shall rest and continue to exist. Reality I call it."
Woolf's angst (she was bipolar) with what was 'real' for her, and the societal illusions and expectations about being alone and lonely (especially as a woman), ultimately influenced her choice to end her life. Ironically, over a century later, that societal perception still exists.
In her post, author Maria Popova writes,
"There is a kind of loneliness that lodges itself in the psyche and never fully leaves, a loneliness most anguishing not in solitude but in companionship and amid the crowd. If solitude fertilizes the imagination, loneliness vacuums it of vitality and sands the baseboards of the spirit with the scratchy restlessness of longing — for connection, for communion, for escape. And yet it is out of this restlessness that so many great works of art are born."
On the other hand, solitude lacks an illusion, or sense of loneliness, and it also feeds imagination and creativity. Journalist and Buddhist Zat Rana writes,
"When you surround yourself with moments of solitude and stillness, you become intimately familiar with your environment in a way that forced stimulation doesn’t allow.
The world becomes richer, the layers start to peel back, and you see things for what they really are, in all their wholeness, in all their contradictions, and in all their unfamiliarity. You learn that there are other things you are capable of paying attention to than just what makes the most noise on the surface."
Being alone does not always have to mean 'loneliness'. Not all of us are afraid of Virginia Woolf, of living life free of illusion.
* Some people like feeling lonely, but that is more of a pathological issue and I'm not delving into that except for my reference to Virginia Woolf.
