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THE CURE FOR LONELINESS

The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved.

—Mother Teresa

What does your “loneliness” sound like?

I know a kind of loneliness that whispers in my ear:

“You don’t have time to talk to people. Get back to your computer, you lazy-ass!”

“I know it’s a beautiful day to have lunch with a friend, but that’s what the weekend is for!”

“Downtime with a loved one? Dude, you have bills to pay!”

It pushes me to stick to my computer and focus, focus, focus! It’s mean-spirited, very demanding, and toxic.

According to a study by the University of Cambridge, sustained loneliness is twice as dangerous as obesity. And the increased mortality risk of loneliness is equal to that of smoking.

You might be thinking, I’m not lonely so this doesn’t apply to me. This only applies to those people who spend all night surfing the web or watching QVC.

But can you say the same for your partner or your kids or your best friend?

The Harvard Business Review reports, “Over 40% of adults in America report feeling lonely.”

I posted on Facebook: What does loneliness feel like in your life? These were some of the answers:

“Loneliness comes from feeling disconnected to Source, self, and others.”

“Loneliness comes from expecting others to make sure I am not lonely.”

“Sometimes I feel most lonely with someone who doesn’t treat me well.”

“Loneliness is when it becomes habit to not do something for someone else.”

“Real loneliness for me is when no one hears me or tries to understand what I’m saying.”

“I feel lonely for the way I thought things and people should be.”

The answers kept on coming, from all across the planet. In fact, loneliness is such an issue, Britain has appointed a Minister for Loneliness. And the former Surgeon General of the United States, Vivek Murthy, said, “During my years caring for patients, the most common pathology I saw was not heart disease or diabetes; it was loneliness.”

It starts when we are kids. I remember some of my loneliest moments when I was twelve and thirteen years old. I wasn’t part of the “cool crowd.” My parents went out to dinner with friends and my little brother was out with friends, and here I was at home, watching Saturday Night Live, by myself.

Loneliness receded over time but still rears its head in moments of uncertainty.

It’s mostly manageable when you are young. You can work through the argument with your spouse. The holiday weekend when you had no plans will soon be over. The difficult winter will give way to a beautiful spring.

But when you are older, loneliness can be oppressive. It’s much harder to shake the blues when you are struggling to move your aching body, or talk after suffering a stroke, or breathe through your emphysema.

Before reading any further, I want to tell you: there is light at the end of this tunnel!

But the secret lies in what many consider the darkest place.

At a Drinks with Your Elders event in New York City, Roberta took us to this darkest place.

Only 71, she has been through ten lifetimes of bad luck. Once upon a time, she had a successful career in editing at Rodale.

“I did very, very well. I kept being promoted. I enjoyed my job tremendously. I had a staff. In the 90s, we were downsized. It was a complete shock.

“If I didn’t get another job right away, I’d get a year of severance so I stayed until the end and lived comfortably for a year.”

Note: You are about to hear a death-defying, vicious freefall. This is not for the faint of heart.

Roberta continued, “I was freelancing and writing books and doing very well. In 2005, I had a terrible case of pneumonia which turned into asthma and lung disease. Then I got sick with endometrial cancer in 2007. I couldn’t afford health insurance. I ended up in the hospital and I went bankrupt. It was thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars.

“I recovered but had another surgery for a hernia. Then in 2010, I was diagnosed with throat cancer. I didn’t have money. I went to the cancer clinic. There was a lawyer who helped me get Medicaid. I had eight weeks of radiation on my throat which was the most horrible experience. I could not swallow or talk. They gave me intravenous liquids. While this was happening, I had an asthma attack and was hospitalized and pumped full of steroids.

“When I got out of the hospital I had an amnesia attack and I went to the ER and they realized I had a brain tumor. So after they finished radiation for my throat, then I had surgery on my brain. I’m very pragmatic. I just deal with things as they come. But the brain tumor scared the hell out of me. I could live with the other stuff. But not without a brain.

“As a result of radiation on my throat, I could no longer use my vocal cords. Then I had brain surgery and radiation on my brain.

“Then they found a growth on my throat which had to be removed so I had surgery for that. Then I found out that I had breast cancer and I had surgery and radiation on that. Meanwhile my lung disease became emphysema. More recently I’ve been diagnosed with spinal stenosis which causes me pain in my neck and back, and peripheral neuropathy which affects my balance. So if I don’t hang onto something, I fall down.

“I felt like my body was my enemy. I had to deal with what I had to deal with. One of the problems people with cancer have is they lose friends—I lost all of my friends.”

Okay … take a second to breathe.

As Roberta paused, I studied the audience at this Drinks with Your Elders. The vibe in the room was dark and heavy, yet deeply engaging, like a Stephen King thriller. Life turned on this lady Roberta and seemed to be attacking her. And yet, here she was, a survivor!

It’s a cautionary tale on the precious value of good health. In your older age, life can take a quick turn for the worse. And no matter your ambition or resilience or professional significance, if your health gives out, you can’t always outmuscle or outshine your circumstances. You need people to show up for you.

Roberta never married and never had children. She lives alone.

She said, “I feel invisible. Partly because of my age. Partly because of technology. I get in the elevator or the bus and everyone is looking at their phone. Nobody is looking up.

“I feel irrelevant. Young people have very little interest in the past and feel old people are just annoying. I feel like a speed bump. New York City is very fast paced. People walk fast. Now when I’m walking down the street, people are walking around me trying to get past me. I feel like I slow people down. It makes me self-conscious that I’m slow.”

One woman at the Drinks with Your Elders event started crying. She couldn’t take it anymore. Too many body blows. Her tears broke the emotional silence and burst the bubble. Everyone in the room exhaled and felt closer to Roberta. She needed to unleash. And we needed to hear it.

You might not be able to prevent cancer and certain health struggles that come with aging. But every single one of us can takes steps to heal loneliness.

Roberta said to everyone in the room, “Stop texting and talk to each other.”

We all live in our bubbles. We go about our routines. We interact with the same family members and coworkers each and every day. It’s so easy to pay no attention to the fact that people like Roberta are all around us, enduring a terrible loneliness. She lives smack in the middle of the biggest city in one of the biggest countries. But Roberta spends most of her time alone, feeling invisible.

Now you might be thinking, I’m doing the best I can to work and support a family. How am I supposed to have time for the Robertas of the world?

Or you might be thinking, I’ve got enough problems in my life. If I’m going to hang out with an elder, at least let it be a positive one.

The sages teach, “You reap what you sow.”

Call it karma, call it what you will.

I strongly believe that the way you and I treat our elders now will be the same way we are treated in our old age.

Geshe Michael Roche, author of The Diamond Cutter, says that if you want to heal loneliness and create a richer love, not to mention some great karma later in life: don’t try to meet people at bars and clubs. Rather, go to an old age home, where you can sow seeds of love that will be instantly treasured.

There are so many “Robertas” out there, who led a great life, a successful life, and their older age became much more difficult than they ever imagined it to be. And they are suffering an oppressive loneliness for which your attention will be their greatest and rarest resource.

That night in New York City, we surrounded this lonely woman, fighting battles with health and money and love. But those are not her battles to fight alone. We all are trying to figure out health and money and love. Whatever loneliness anyone brought to that moment dissipated in the face-to-face, heart-to-heart, generation-to-generation contact.

Someone asked, “Roberta, can you turn the tide on your life? How does this get better for you?”

Roberta said, “People keep telling me how strong I am. I don’t think so. I accept it. I’m not scared to die. Once it’s over, it’s over. I won’t be in pain. I won’t be worried about money.”

I asked if she believes in life after death.

She replied, “I don’t believe in anything except ‘us.’”

“My stepdad, Harry Nye, who passed on at age 82 … was a quiet, humble, loving man. I learned so much from him being his authentic self. He was introverted, so I learned it was okay to not be a social butterfly. He asked my political opinions, so even as a young girl, I learned to speak and know my own truth. He raised me and my two brothers, so I learned integrity and how to be a stepparent—never trying to replace a parent, but being an additional adult to care about and care for a stepchild. He was not perfect and damn if I haven’t learned that is okay too, and to keep on trying anyway.”

—Lorri, Redmond, Washington