Loneliness as a Signature of Integrity

LONELINESS AS A SIGNATURE OF INTEGRITY

It's an embarrassing admission, but for a certain group of people among us, it's fair to say that a significant portion of our lives is spent asking essentially the same question, week after week, with the same mixture of frustration, despair, and bemusement: Why am I so lonely? It's an embarrassing confession, but for a certain group of people among us, it's fair to say that a significant portion of our lives is spent asking essentially the same question, week after week, with the same

Why, in other words, do I find myself at odds with so many people in social situations, why can't I connect with people more readily, and why don't I have more friends who are deserving of the title?

Because I am bad, because there is something wrong with me, and because I deserve to be disliked, it is natural to jump to the most ominous conclusion: because I am to blame.

Rather than being punishing, the real answer is likely to be far more logical: we are isolated members of the tribe for a very firm and forgivable reason: we are interested in introspection, whereas they – the others – are not interested in introspection, no matter how brilliant they are or how strong their minds are.

They may have a wide range of interests and passions, as well as a great deal to say on a wide range of topics, but they are just not interested in digging deeply within themselves. Going back into their childhoods, tracing the links between their emotions and their behaviors, or lying in a bath or a bed for an extended period of time while digesting events in their interior lives are not their notion of pleasure. Introspection is not something they are good at. They haven't told us this in so many words — and they probably won't — and they may not even be aware that they haven't informed us. We simply have to assume that this is the case based on exterior evidence: that we never feel we have much to say to them, despite the fact that there may be a great deal to communicate with them objectively.

For this reason, conversation with them frequently becomes stuck in strange areas, such as debating the price of train tickets or how to make the greatest muffins or what this or that person from university (whom we never really knew or liked) is doing now, among other things. The reason why, when we try to steer the conversation toward something more private and vulnerable, we seem to be unable to do so and instead end up in yet another round of debate about sports results or the latest political scandal is explained by this theory.

Even if they aren't frigid in the traditional sense, it can appear that way since they aren't interested in conveying what is truly going on in their minds. When someone tells us that they consider us to be a close friend out of the blue, we can be taken by surprise.

We should realize that the majority of our acquaintances – no matter how much they might want to be friendly in theory – do not want to be friendly at the expense of having to peek inside their own heads.

And we, on the other hand, are lonely because we are functioning under the assumption that intimacy is significantly less prevalent than we torture ourselves with the illusion that it is. If we are fortunate enough to meet just one or two persons in our lifetime who share our passion for playing, we will consider ourselves fortunate. In the meantime, we shouldn't make our difficulties worse by being depressed because we're feeling depressed. It's terrible, but completely comprehensible; our favorite pastime, no matter how noble it may be, is a highly strange one to say the least.