Loneliness and talking to the wall: why none of us think it’s weird anymore.
“I love sleeping with my Big Ted.” I blurted out. I have no shame.
“You love what, now!?”
I laughed at my friend’s expression, her eyebrows contorted into a shape there is no word for yet and her eyes, unblinking, like I’d just said, “I love the smell of bricks.”
“My bear!” I smirked.
I’ve had BT since I was ten (I’m 52 now). He’s missing his nose and his face is a bit squashed like he’s walked into someone’s fist. However, he’s been to every home I’ve ever lived in and now I’m single again, he sleeps in my bed every night. I hug him as I fall asleep and he makes me feel somehow protected in the darkness. I mean if a burglar broke in, BT would be about as useful as a hairbrush in a bald man’s beauty contest but I still love him!
BT also reminds me of when I first got him, on my 10th birthday and of being a daughter, a role that no longer exists for me since both my parents passed. (My sister, before she also recently passed, said, “We’re orphans now.” Harsh.) BT doesn’t need to speak to make me feel loved. I hold him against me as I sleep alone and I just feel safe.
Lonely AF
The thing is, despite the increasing acceptance of therapy, self-help books, and #mentalhealth social media Reels, a small number of us Brits still discreetly link loneliness with being ‘a bit of a sad loser!’ Especially men. It’s still seen as something that happens to “old people” not those in their 30s, 40s or above. So we swipe our smiles on and pull out the old “I’m fine” card with friends, when actually, in our minds, we’re fantasising about getting back into our bed at 2pm with a packet of figgy biscuits and doom scrolling on TikTok. Can you relate?
We often refer to loneliness as something negative. And we look at it as a weakness. Jay Shetty
We live in a different world now than our parents. Many families today are scattered across cities and countries. Local community spirit is more like ‘Community Facebook Group’. So who becomes our ‘adopted families’ now? Our friends? Colleagues? Instagram followers?
Meeting a partner has become an incessant game of ghosting, mind games, and swiping. We all stay connected through WhatsApp, Zoom and social media but something is still missing for us. We’re always reachable, 24/7, but we’re not always being heard and that’s the difference. We’re left frustrated and sad, as girls nights are alcohol-fuelled cries of “why didn’t he whatsapp me back!? it’s been 24 hours!” and boys nights in the pub are “she’s doing my head in! I need space and another pint!”
Openly discussing & treating mental health issues has soared over the last thirty years or so. We have so much more fatigue, stress, impatience, that we’re craving things which make no demands from us in order to feel safe such as, our sofa, Netflix, our father’s old shirt for example.
Do you remember Shirley Valentine?
“Hiya Wall.”
(to the camera) “Well, what’s wrong with that? There’s a woman three doors down who talks to her microwave!”
It was hilarious, back then. But now? I don’t know about you but aren’t we all thinking, ‘perfectly normal behaviour!’ Shirley was clearly lonely and neglected by her belligerent husband and her kitchen wall gave her emotional comfort. It never answered back, was always there, it supported her. Some of you are probably thinking ‘if only I could find a partner who was like this!’ It’s true, right?
Yeh, fascinating. But just give me the stats…
I don’t think I’m alone in feeling like this. I researched and discovered that nearly 60% of Brits feel lonely ‘at least some of the time’. https://www.centreforsocialjustice.org.uk/library/lonely-nation-part-2?utm_source=chatgpt.com.
However, according to Gov.UK only 7% admit they feel lonely ‘often or always’. https://www.gov.uk/government/statistics/community-life-survey-202324-annual-publication/community-life-survey-202324-loneliness-and-support-networks–2?utm_source=chatgpt.com#loneliness
Ok, so, what do we do when we feel forgotten? Or lost? we reach for something familiar. A stuffed bear from childhood with dribble stains from when you were six or your favourite mug saying “I like it Hot and Wet”. It could be Apple TV and your blacked out living room. These things don’t make demands on you and they don’t walk away, so that becomes our non-verbal support system.
They are our own ‘Shirley’s wall’.
So I ask you: The lunchbreak you, the 2am wide awake you, the train commute to work you. What do you turn to as your safety/security when no one is there? Whatever it is, it’s ok. You’re not weird (well……….*raises eyebrows*…..). You’re human. Whether it’s a BT, your sofa or your fridge, we’re all a bit Shirley Valentine now.
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