Let's be lonely together

Radical aloneness, finding community and bathroom epiphanies

Dear reader,

It is either I have an inherently heightened resistance to the feeling of loneliness, or I have, for some time now, been so lonely that it just became a part of who I am. I’m not sure which is more true. In any case, I wasn’t deterred from choosing to live alone and work remotely in a new city where I know very few people. In fact growing up I would often fantasize about having precisely this, my own space, a place where I could relish in pure, uninterrupted solitude. I was, from a young age, eager to prove my self-sufficiency and guilty of seeing living alone as a rite of passage (it’s not). I wanted a chance to find myself or whatever. This is all to say, the threat of loneliness had occurred to me before my move but the prospect of residing in a temple of personal space outweighed any of those fears. 

And so I pursued this solo living fantasy, romanticizing the hell out of it, which is especially easy to do in New York. In the beginning my family would call to ask if I were lonely. Not really, I’d say, I love living in my own little world. While that may have been true at first, sure enough, it didn’t take long for me to become terribly lonely. 

It is my understanding there is something in the air here in New York that makes you more prone to loneliness and acutely aware of it when it occurs. You brush past someone in a hurry on the street, your face is in someone’s armpit on the subway, you see groups of friends file into Sunday brunch and you can’t help but feel alone. 

On top of that, when you live alone—or just spend a lot of time alone—each day is an opportunity to soak in your independence. To lather in introspection and rinse with positive self-talk. Reality and daydreams begin to merge into this secret third thing where you are neither in touch with yourself nor with the world around you. And yet, if you’re anything like me, there is a strange compulsion to stay there, in the bath of solitary, where at least you can always be there for yourself even if maybe you’re not quite sure who that is anymore. When protecting my peace became isolation, I knew I had to get out of the water to avoid drowning in my loneliness. 

Which is how I ended up at The Nook. 

The Nook is a coffee shop in Brooklyn and in it, there is quite literally a nook. A nook within The Nook. Tucked in the back of the cafe is a snug wooden alcove that houses old books, frames, armchairs, and on every other Monday night, a group of women who like to write.

Decidedly sick with loneliness one recent afternoon, I turned to Google, typing “writing workshop new york city” in my search bar. I flitted through the results on the M train unknowing that I’d soon be sitting in the nook, in a circle of women, listening to laptops click and beans grind, feeling positively unalone.

I got up to use the bathroom. There, washing my hands, I caught myself in the mirror over the sink. Someone familiar stared back at me. Someone I hadn’t seen in a while. I looked into her eyes, the two lines forming between them, the freckles peeking through hours-old concealer, the messy frame of curls. My face presented to me at this moment a glimpse of all the versions of myself I have been. I see the girl I once was, and in a sense, still am. The woman I am becoming. The person I aspire to be. They all exist in me now. I don’t need to find myself because I am already here. It was like being slapped and hugged at the same time. I exited the bathroom to return to the group, so consumed by my realization I almost forget to turn off the sink.

While the presence of the other writers in the group was certainly an effective balm for my loneliness, a deeper breakthrough occurred for me at this moment in the mirror. There are many ways to be lonely, but I think my particular case of loneliness stems from constantly longing to be someone else, to recreate myself. To escape who I have been to become who I want to be. It’s why I picked up and moved to NYC alone. But now that I am here, I’m learning it’s really about connecting with who you already are, not so much becoming someone brand new. It is being able to look in the mirror and say I will never really be alone because in me will always live an infinite number of my former and future selves.

This is not to discredit the most obvious solution to overcoming loneliness which is to surround yourself with genuine connections. In a city of 8 million, finding and cultivating community has been pivotal for me. In addition to the writing group, that has looked like workout classes, communal workspaces, internet friend dates, learning my local barista’s name, spending quality time with my cat, etc etc.

I shared an initial draft of this with the writing group and after doing so it was clear I am not alone in feeling lonely. I’d like to take this moment to offer you the same message. In some ways, we will always be alone. It is a consequence of our existence. The antidote: finding other lonely people with whom to share our loneliness. Even if that sometimes means spending it with the person in the mirror.  

Thanks for being here. It is said that writing is a lonely craft but to share it with all of you is a sweet consolation!

Sincerely,

Salena