Feed the Lonely (Helping Lonely Friends)

Yes, feed the lonely.

i. Wayward Son

The youngest of four, my parents had me after they had climbed the ladders of middle-class success. My oldest sister is thirteen years ahead of me, and—bless her—she didn’t have near the same luxuries I enjoyed as I grew up. We had a nice, spacious house in an old neighborhood with little crime. It was a perfectly inconspicuous respite in a good Southern city. People smiled as you as you walked down the sidewalk, churches filled every block nearby, and Chuck-E-Cheese was only a fifteen minute drive away. I loved it as much as a five year old could.

It was sad. Good things like that only seemed to exist so they could disappear, all too happy to leave you alone and hopeless.

Third grade was my first year of homeschooling. My parents pulled me out of the public school system because I had begged them to. First and second grade had actually treated me well. Little popular kids would flock around me, and I spoke to them with the grace and candor of a first grade king. My friends played with me, and I enjoyed it. However, young brains like mine didn’t understand what they had until it was gone. Staying at home and enjoying TV sounded great. Why wouldn’t I want it, even at the cost of never seeing my public school friends again?

The first few years weren’t bad. Pleasure filled my brain every day as I snuck around my stay-at-home, working mom to watch TV and play games. School was for chumps, and homework’s only purpose was to decorate my (always vacant) desk. This stole more and more of my time until I hardly went outside willingly. I retreated to my room as often as possible, and when my family relented their efforts to get me outside, I relished in my dark, isolated hobbies.

Yet, social isolation had consequences. Despite my success in first and second grade public school, I had still been a rather shy child. Interacting with young peers would always soothe my fears when I realized, well, there was nothing to be afraid of.

However, once I was able to spend time with only myself, I did.

I somewhat remember the day my eyes finally opened to the horror of what I had done to myself. I sat at my computer, my mind numb from years of entertainment abuse.

Click. Tap. Scroll. My computer’s blue light burned my face, and sharp thoughts pierced my brain. Am I really going to do this? Leave behind what I have spent so much time on? I had no choice. Soon, I would take my first community college class for dual credit in high school. Homeschooling had been easy. College wouldn’t be the same.

My fingers stroked my oil-stained keyboard as I wrote a farewell letter to my online gamer-friends. They were my everything. After forsaking real in-person interaction, my shyness had developed into social anxiety. (I never got an official prognosis, but I’m rather sure I could have.) The people I played online games with every day were my only comfort.

I finished the letter and posted it. My online life was over.

Then the deathly pangs of loneliness drug my heart down to hell. For the first time in the fifteen years of my life (yes, I was addicted to video games from third to tenth grade), I was really alone. My online friends were gone, my family felt like strangers, and my uncaring, anti-social demeanor scared everyone else off.

I wish I had some anecdote about how I turned my life around swiftly. If only I could tell you that it was all uphill from there. Surely I developed a desire to connect with others and made new friends? No, no, no. What followed was the worst three years I would ever experience.

ii. The Lonely

Every day was a strange cocktail. I found new video games to play that I wasn’t (totally) addicted to. Sometimes I made efforts to read my Bible. Mostly it was anime, games, and a light seasoning of productivity. Community college classes came, and I made a great art of learning while masterfully avoiding others. My social anxiety made it easy to run from others and spend my time in solitary activities.

That taught me my very first lesson. There was something wrong with me. Others talked to each other with ease, but I didn’t know how to have a conversation. Even though I wanted to, I was too afraid to try. A missing feeling bored in my chest like… ah. I was lonely.

Social anxiety and loneliness are both awful. But loneliness is likely the more famous of the two. News headlines in the past years have raised alarms about America’s loneliness epidemic. It is bad. Really bad. Everyone knows that it makes people emotionally hurt, but it also hurts your physical health. Negative effects include “increased vascular resistance in young adults … elevated systolic blood pressure in older adults … less restorative sleep … increased hypothalamic pituitary adrenocortical activity … diminished immunity … under-expression of genes bearing anti-inflammatory glucocorticoid response elements … and abnormal ratios of circulating white blood cells.” Like I said, bad.

Still, there’s something good about understanding loneliness. As it burrowed deeper and deeper in me as if it wanted to strangle my soul, I got it. I accepted it. Again, I said it to myself, I was lonely. Loneliness was a real problem and a real struggle. Acknowledging that meant I could find a real solution and real healing. There’s power in your awareness too. Now, you know that loneliness is real. The Lonely are real, and they’re in so, so much pain.

There isn’t always a clear fix for loneliness.

“Just put yourself out there!” You might say. Yeah, as if the Lonely haven’t heard that a million times.

Chronic loneliness has many causes. Most causes will stop the Lonely from getting relief for their loneliness. That’s really just what it means to be chronically lonely. You must have something that’s keeping you in the loneliness. It can be social anxiety, lack of social skills, depression, body image, or whatever. These underlying causes are difficult to address and overcome.

That’s why even though I saw and named my loneliness struggle, I couldn’t do anything about it. I tried to make new friends for two years, and I failed. It was like I was trying to assemble a robot without knowing what parts I had on hand. Conversation was impossible because I had trapped myself in chronic loneliness through stunting my social skills and intensifying my social anxiety.

The big moment came when I stepped in one of my first mentor’s car. He was a middle-aged youth minister from my church, and we had agreed to get lunch together. He drove me to Zaxby’s, sat me in one of their nice, cramped booths, and paid for my food. The fried chicken air pleased my nostrils, and the fried chicken food satisfied my tongue. Greatly. I don’t remember what words we spoke over that table, but I remember its importance. It was the first time I had opened myself up to another person since my elementary years.

On the ride back to my house, I told him about my loneliness. He only nodded along and affirmed my pains. Even though it wasn’t his fault at all, he apologized that my church’s youth ministry hadn’t successfully reached out to me. Something hit me like nothing else could in that car. I’m still not sure what it was exactly, but that was all I really needed then. As I collapsed in my bed that night, I think I cried—or at least tried to.

Feed the Lonely.

iii. A Theory of Social Skills

By the start of 2018, I was progressing. I walked into my youth group class every Sunday morning with my head at least halfway up from the floor, and I sat in the comfy chairs somewhat close to others. At least one extra seat away for safety, of course. Still, I wasn’t talking to anyone there as a friend, and that hurt.

The youth group would often have fun gatherings around town. Grill-outs with a Mario Kart showdown. Birthday parties at the church. Group dinners at nice restaurants.

We strolled through a fancy, outdoor mall with our posse bustling through chattering crowds. Gold splattered across the sky as the sun retreated from evening to night. The group lobbed jokes and teases at each other through the hot, humid Alabama air, and I hung around the back. My mentor was there, but he was not mine. He had to speak with everyone. Besides, coddling me would be no help.

I don’t belong here.

We stopped for ice cream, and others licked it up while conversing with each other. They loved it—the ice cream, yes, but also they loved each other. I didn’t understand. Ignore me and have fun with each other? Talk about cliquish and childish. I stood in line for ice cream until I decided I wanted none of it and secluded myself at an empty bench.

“How’s it going?” the other youth minister said, walking up to me. He was a shorter, bald man with a demeanor that could make the sourest witch smile. I wouldn’t fall for it. No one was going to patronize me.

“Good.” I shifted uncomfortably and gave the shortest answers I could give. That was how our conversation went.

My mentor came over and tried to comfort me, but I brushed him off too. The others laughed and talked in the distance, occasionally stealing glances at me. My gut wrenched. How could they? I “put myself out there” and went to their events. Yet, they left me feeling as if I don’t belong here.

In hindsight, it was obvious that the problem was me. Sure, I showed up, but even when I was with them I was never really with them. Unless someone spoke to me, I never said a word. Their conversations were fun and humorous, but fun and humor didn’t exactly come naturally to me. They would ask me a question, and I gave one word answers. My body language screamed, “Stay away from me!” So they did.

Psychologists sometimes use “social skills interventions” to treat the Lonely. The psychologist’s clients must learn social skills (through informational methods) and interact with others regularly. Improved social skills should allow the Lonely to find the real connections they need. Sometimes, this works. However, since poor social skills aren’t always the cause of loneliness, evidence for social skills intervention effectiveness is sparse.

My social skills were abysmal, and you need social skills to connect with others. I’m pretty sure that’s why I remained one of the Lonely.

Feed the Lonely.

iv. Through-out

Over the months, I gained some meager social skills. Not enough to fit with my peers but enough to make it seem like I was fine.

One morning, a new person showed up to youth group class. We’ll say his name was Jay.

Jay was three years younger than me, but we had an affinity for each other. He was quiet like me, and though he never bragged, I could tell that he enjoyed intellectual pursuits like me. Every time I saw him I struck up the best conversation I could manage. We cracked sarcastic jokes, laughed, and talked about our interests. Our connection was never too close. I was too smart and cunning for that. (i.e. Too dumb and guarded.) It was a meager friendship, but it was real.

The scientific definition of loneliness is simple. It doesn’t do justice to how the Lonely feel, but, it’s simple. You are lonely if your desired social connectedness doesn’t match your perceived social connectedness. Chronic loneliness is loneliness over a long time.

The Lonely suffer because they have no real connections. Therefore, real connections heal loneliness. That’s because these connections are what most of the Lonely desire. According to the above definition, these connections bring your desire closer to what you experience. Becoming friends with a chronically lonely person is hard. They have several barriers that often prevent them from becoming closer to other humans. Nevertheless, someone needs to break through those barriers.

Similarly, the Lonely need to break through their barriers. The only way out is through. Because I understand what loneliness is like, I won’t suggest that the Lonely pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. That’s not possible.

Help the Lonely.

Those who are lonely, find help. That help may be online resources, a friend, or a therapist. Throughout your loneliness, you must fight.

My words fell into the open air as I told Jay about my college plans. I was moving three hours away, and I didn’t expect to come home much. My heart was cold, and Jay’s face was still. We moved to another conversation topic soon after. A few weeks later, I left for college, and I haven’t talked to Jay since.

Feed the Lonely.

v. Looking Back

The two years after that were a slow grind. I introduced myself to hundreds of people in college, and my social development accelerated at an amazing pace. My social anxiety vanished within the first year of college, and I have many friends now. I love my social life.

And my mind can only flicker back to Jay, my mentor, and my former self.

A few months ago, non-profit organization leaders had convinced me that helping the poor was the best way to live my life. At a conference, I listened to a lesson from one, and I approached him afterwards for a question with nervousness rolling down my spine.

“I’m not sure I am doing the right thing,” I said, explaining my future hopes and career options.

Conviction filled his voice as he told me that poverty relief was one of the greatest works to do in the twenty-first century. I agree. Helping the poor is incredibly important, and it’s foundational to my Christian faith. It made sense to do that. As a result, I made many plans to organize with other students to start working in this, and an Economics PhD seemed like a reasonable future option to find a solution to poverty.

Feed the lonely. A different call resounded in my skull, annoying me every day. Uncertainty chased away any peace I had. My changing attitude was gradual, but this same uncertainty eventually gave me a realization. Feeding the lonely is just as important as feeding the hungry, the poor. I’m not sure why I ever even saw the two as different. Loneliness is not material poverty, and it doesn’t have the same consequences. But loneliness still kills, and someone needs to reach the lonely. I want to do it.

In the New Testament, Jesus teaches about feeding the hungry and giving to the poor. My favorite story is one of the most harrowing lessons Jesus taught. The King of Everything (Jesus) returns to Earth in glorious victory. He sees men and women flocking around him, welcoming him as if rolling out a red carpet. The people on the right were the King’s friends. They had cared for the poor and hungry, and the King says they cared for him through that. Those on the left were the King’s enemies. They ignored the poor and hungry, so they ignored the King. The King loves and affirms the good people on the right. The bad people on the left—sorry for the crassness—go to hell.

The Lonely are poor in relationships and hungry for connection. What should we do?

vi. How to “Feed the Lonely”

My story probably isn’t unique. There are many people who want to make new connections and beat loneliness. Some of those people will succeed easily. Others will struggle, and they will need help. That’s what it means to feed the lonely. Fight the loneliness epidemic alongside the Lonely.

That sounds all well, but how do you do it? I don’t have a great answer. It’s hard to feed the lonely. You have to think about:

• How do you find lonely people?
• Will lonely people even want to connect?
• What should you say to a lonely person?
• Are any of my friends lonely?
• Why should you help lonely people? Isn’t that condescending?

And so on.

If you have any answers to those questions, please, email me or comment below. In the mean time, I have a few suggestions if you want to feed the lonely.

Encourage therapy.

Loneliness has many different causes, and it’s unlikely that you will be able to identify them unless you’re a trained therapist or counselor. That goes for lonely people and people helping lonely people. A good therapist can help the Lonely identify their pains and address them in a healthy way. (I wish I had a therapist to teach me social skills and encourage me to talk to others!)

Plus, cognitive behavioral therapy is one of the most empirically effective ways to alleviate loneliness. It can feed the Lonely.

If you want to help a lonely person, it’s tempting to want to do it yourself. But there’s no shame in getting nor recommending therapy. It works.

Always talk to new people.

My first question above was “How do you find lonely people?” It’s difficult. You probably won’t be able to find the Lonely by sniffing them out unless you have resources or organizations backing you that know how to identify lonely people.

That means you just have to meet new people. Talk to people in lines and chat with the cashier. When someone new shows up to an event, introduce yourself. If someone seems to be shy or uncomfortable in a social situation, try to get to know them.

Statistically speaking, the more people you know, the more likely it is you can feed the Lonely.

Intentionally include others.

If you are in a friend group or clique, make an intentional effort to include others. It’s incredibly easy to live your life without much interaction with people you don’t know or like. Don’t do that. Instead, go out of your way to speak with and invite people that you’re not good friends with.

This is the similar to the previous tip, but this goes a step further.

When you meet new people, talk to them and make an effort to build a genuine relationship. Lonely people probably won’t be the best at maintaining a connection. Be more willing to include them and watch out for them in social situations.

And that’s all I have!

I hope you enjoyed reading my story and lessons, and let this encourage you to feed the Lonely.

QOTD: What event would you invite a lonely person to, and why?

I want to add value to your life through MyronHighsmith.com. If you liked this and want more, follow me via. email to get posts like this one regularly.