A WINDOW INTO LONELINESS

When the Queen promised ‘we will meet again’ in her address to the nation, it was particularly poignant for those forced into social isolation. Advice columnist Bel Mooney shares her insight into the effects of the loneliness pandemic

Something that millions of us have felt recently…. and how to find help

When, in future years, we look back at the time of coronavirus, what will be the images that leap to mind? Will it be clapping for the NHS? Or people tussling for toilet rolls? Or the litany of diagnosis and death figures? For me, the most powerful image is of windows.

Yes, windows.

Just like in Italy and France, people in UK cities leaned out of their windows with their phones to film people in other windows. They captured the haunting strangeness of the great lockdown – which imprisoned us behind our doors and windows, maybe with other people, but often all alone. And for those (of all ages) who live by themselves, being told to stay at home – and save the NHS – was a terrible sentence.

And now we are facing the reckoning. If the Covid-19 pandemic hasn’t been bad enough, the loneliness pandemic is also something that will not go away easily.

One of my friends, a sophisticated, lively woman who is 74, suddenly faced a life in free fall. Her partner died many years ago, since when she’s had a lively, independent existence, working and enjoying the widest range of social activities: keep-fit and Pilates classes, a book club, concerts and galleries with chums, and merry evenings in restaurants when the wine flowed freely.

Suddenly – nothing. Classed as vulnerable because of her age, and with two married sons living in another town, she wanted to scream and push down the walls of the cosy flat that seemed to grow smaller by the day. She told me all this in anguished emails: ‘It just feels as if my life is over and I can’t bear it.’

Of course, we all tried to make the best of things. There was even, for some oldies like me, a new excitement at discovering Skype and Facetime. Another of my friends, a self-confessed technophobe, was thrilled when she mastered Zoom in order to take part in a weekly Pilates class. That and our Whatsapp conversations kept loneliness at bay. For a while. But as the weeks passed, she sighed: ‘It’s just not the same! The screen makes you feel so near and yet so far. I want to be with people. I want to give somebody a big hug.’

Many people (and I am one) enjoy their own company. But only when it presupposes a choice. Just being able to wander down to the shops to meet a friend for coffee, to smile at the lady on the supermarket checkout… all those normal activities remind us that we are essentially social beings. Humans are pack animals (like my three happy dogs), naturally choosing to exist within social and emotional structures to give mutual support and (at the same time) keep society as stable as possible. Why else is the word ‘loner’ overlaid with

both pity and suspicion, as well as lack of understanding?

During lockdown, younger singletons were forced to realise just how much they relied on going out to meet friends. Yes, they missed the opportunities for romance, too, of course. But suddenly, it seemed that dashing down to the pub to giggle with friends over a bottle of Pinot Grigio was a lost dream. My daughter told me that one of her mates, a divorced mother of a six-year-old, became so desperate as she struggled to home-school, knowing there was no respite – that once her child was in bed, yet another lonely evening would reduce her to tears.

I know these stories will strike a chord with many reading this – partly because of letters to my Saturday advice column in the Daily Mail. They told a story that many of you would recognise. Among a stack of emails describing the stress of solitude, came this one from a woman trying hard to be positive: ‘Even though I feel isolated being on my own, I appreciate the silence and birds singing when I do my daily morning walk, the peace and lack of enforced rushing about, the small gestures of kindness shown by others. I am also now a qualified crisis counsellor for Shout, the mental health charity endorsed by Prince William, and am busy taking shifts after work. There’s been a huge increase in calls due to Covid and I’m learning a lot, and so pleased to help.’

There is no doubt that the UK is facing a protracted mental health crisis as the on-going shock of Covid-19 triggers serious problems. Couples forced together have seen the cracks widen in their relationships; children face a perfect storm of lack of schooling, no friendships and tense homes; while ‘All The Lonely People’, from The Beatles’ song, have been brought face-to-face with their sadness in isolation. One older lady wrote to me: ‘For the first time, I have nightmares about dying all alone, and nobody finding me.’

A group of 24 leading academics has warned (in the journal The Lancet

We are essentially social beings. The lockdown imprisoned us behind our doors and windows

Psychiatry) that the pandemic could have a ‘profound and pervasive impact on global mental health now and in the future’, with children, adolescents and the elderly most at risk. Even at the beginning of lockdown, mental health practitioners found that people were experiencing high levels of anxiety and stress as a result of coronavirus. Why? Because of being cooped up, worrying about finances, fear of catching the virus and, of course, loneliness.

People display different levels of resilience in a crisis and, for many, the memories of people helping each other and the sense of a nation doing its best (summed up so beautifully in the Queen’s very personal speech) will never be forgotten. There was love in the time of coronavirus, as the young took food to their self-isolating grandparents, and stranger reached out to stranger.

Many of us wondered whether that spirit would continue, when life returned to a version of ‘normal’. As that happens, let us not forget those who face a newer version of their loneliness: perhaps dreading another lockdown while going out again, and still longing for somebody to pay them attention. The saddest letters I receive come from old people ignored by their families and wondering what they did to deserve it.

Let’s not forget the lessons of empathy learned. Let’s teach our children and grandchildren to be kind. Let’s reach out beyond the closed circle of selfhood and consider whether that person who lives alone might like a knock on the door. As we move into the next stage of coming to terms (if we can) with the long-term effects of Covid-19, remember the countless people consumed with loneliness who have given up hope. They yearn for someone to say ‘Hello’. The simplest of acts like that really matter and we must not forget as life becomes busier and busier once more.

Never underestimate the importance of a hand held out, within communities and (most vitally) families. Never forget to wonder who’s behind that door, peering out of a lonely window.