Getting to Home: When Loneliness Comes at You Like a Curve Ball

Yet another article popped up on my LinkedIn this week reminding that we are in the midst of a loneliness epidemic, and highlighting that it is a professional as well as personal concern. If connections require repeated, prolonged, informal interaction in order to bloom into meaningful friendships, then the shift to hybrid and remote work is just one of many factors in our workplaces and larger society that are contributing to increased social isolation among working adults. What to do about it? The Surgeon General’s recent diagnosis of loneliness as a public health crisis highlights that this is a structural problem, not simply an individual one. But for those who are suffering now, structural change is going to be—and feel—really slow. As a mid-life, mid-career professional, I wanted to share here what has worked for me—well 3 things that have worked, in combination, and 1 thing that was just a good try. My story and these tips won’t be relevant for everyone, but I hope they might be helpful for some. 

First, some context. After moving cross-country for my “dream job,” 8 years ago, I experienced a period of profound loneliness. In the process of relocating, I had found myself uprooted from the warm, welcoming midwestern community where my husband and I had lived and raised a family for 17 years and transplanted in the San Francisco Bay Area. Here, I discovered, colleagues were more dispersed geographically (with long commutes making after work socializing more difficult), my new leadership role left me with fewer peers for socializing, and the culture (like the weather) was a little chillier than I’d anticipated. At mid-career and mid-life, I was working a lot and, with our only child in high school, I was no longer making friends over playdates at the park. 

About 4 months into the “honeymoon” of my great new job and glorious new location, I started feeling symptoms of loneliness as well as hints of real grief for the community and relationships I’d left behind. It came as a shock at first, a total curve ball. This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? So what was wrong with me? Once I recognized and accepted my feelings, I realized I had to make some changes, play the game differently. As a highly social extrovert, I knew I couldn’t sustain that sense of isolation for long and still function effectively, so I starting taking concrete steps to work my way through and out of loneliness.  It took me a while - maybe 2-3 years in total (yes, really) - but I’m happy to say that my loneliness has not only been resolved, but I am now in a rich and fulfilling web of relationships that has been transformative for me, both personally and professionally. I feel at home in a new way. 

Here are 4 things I tried—swings I took at bat—3 of which really helped move me forward: 

1. I joined a tennis club (a totally non-swanky one that plays at a local middle school) in hopes of meeting other women my age with similar interests. After a couple of years of this, when I realized that weekly matches with an irregular set of teammates and the occasional practice weren’t gonna cut it, I decided to get more involved and agreed to serve on the club’s board. It turned out this involved taking the minutes at long after-work meetings where I was the youngest person by two decades. (Board meetings were at an assisted living facility!). The folks were lovely, I became better acquainted with Roberts Rules, and I learned a lot about shed roof repair and porta-potty security, but no friendships or real sense of community emerged. But I had tried. I put myself out there. I took a swing. Strike one. 

2.  In my second year on the job, I took advantage of our Employee Assistance Program (EAP) to see a therapist for a few weeks, cost-free, which gave me someone other than my spouse to talk through my feelings of grief and loneliness with. I never really “clicked” with this therapist, but they turned me onto Acceptance Commitment Therapy (ACT) which helped me re-focus on my ultimate values and commitments—observing my emotions but getting less invested in and entangled by them. This has helped a lot, as I focus on doing what is meaningful to me, rather than trying to achieve or sustain an elusive sense of happiness. I’d call this effort at bat a “walk.” No big hit, but a runner on base now. 

3. Then, a year later (about 2 years into my relocation), I finally found the opportunity to open up to a work colleague with whom I’d felt a bit of a spark from day one. We were in different units and didn’t get to see each other very much, but the discrete interactions had begun to add up. She had invited me to a work-related outing at which we had time to socialize, and we’d hit it off. We rode into the city together a couple of times for work events, and our conversation on the road really clicked, with lots of laughter. I was the one who eventually bridged the work-life gap and invited her to go for a walk on the weekend. We sat on a bench at the marina for an hour after our walk, with a conversation full of twists and turns. I just decided to let it fly and be myself. Thus began the most meaningful friendship of my adult life. We now hike together regularly, spend almost every Friday night over cribbage and wine,  and she has become a member of our family — in our COVID bubble, on vacations, at family celebrations, we share late night texts, shoes, and more! This is the great gift that emerged from my grief. And this friendship has led to others, in turn. Bases now loaded. 

4. My final strategy has been a slow, evolving one, but this was the swing that ultimately produced a grand slam.  Just a few months into my new life in the Bay, as Christmas was approaching, I decided to start looking for a church. Before I say more, let me note that I recognize religion isn’t for everyone, and I’m certainly not proselytizing here. But churches, synagogues, temples, and mosques, which have historically been crucial sources of spiritual sustenance and key community resources in countless ways, have also often provided “fun, food, and fellowship” for their members. The radical decline in formal religious participation is certainly, then, one important contributor to our loneliness epidemic. I know of at least one non-believer who recognizes this and has started attending church again just for the sake of finding a sustained community of people who openly care about others and each other. Their church pickle ball league is also definitely a bonus. 

On my very first attempt at “church shopping,” after some online research, I wandered into a warm, inclusive, thoughtful community in my adopted tradition, about a 15 minute drive from home, where I immediately felt welcomed. Nice. But just showing up on Sundays, I knew (see #1) wasn’t gonna cut it. I sat next to a newish member that first visit who essentially said to me, “These are good people; but they are Episcopalians, so you’ll have to make the first move.” Okay, I thought, I can do that, and I made myself a deal: I would have to talk to at least one new person at coffee-hour every week before I was allowed to leave. Just one. Sometimes that was easy. Sometimes it was painful. But I did it, and it helped at least a little. Then, about 6 months in, I took on a small but visible service role. That helped, too. And then I signed up to attend the annual women’s retreat. That weekend in Sonoma, over shared meals, walks, structured and casual conversations, and group dorm rooms, I bonded with some amazing women, aged 18-88, and found a few potential future friends. I’m still getting to know those folks better 7 years (and 5 more retreats) later, and we don’t socialize as much as we’d like, but I know I can count on them if I need something practical or emotional, and that means a lot. And I’ve tried to be there for them.  I’ve also taken on many more church service roles in recent year (including chairing the board), which has helped me get to know individuals and the community much more deeply. I am—and feel—part of a larger body of care, support, service, and love. And that best friend of mine? Turns out she was looking for some spiritual and social reconnection as well…and is now an active member of our parish, too. 

For those experiencing loneliness who are at all inclined to a mission-focused community, and for whom the idea of worship (ritually opening oneself, with others, to the great source of life and meaning) isn’t totally off-putting, seeking out a religious community is worth exploring. There are a wide array out there, across religions and denominations - and my own includes a broad swath of beliefs as well as non-belief.  Watching a livestream or two can be a low-risk way to assess whether a visit to any particular congregation feels safe. 

Those are my strategies: 3 hits, and 1 miss. 

While the particular plays in this story are my own, my experience is not wholly unique. I was not surprised, then, to find what worked for me reflected in an Inside Higher Ed article about the epidemic of loneliness among college students that I came across while working on this blog entry: All the Lonely Students. It’s everybody. And we’re all human. 

So, here I am, 8 years later, in the midst of another career transition. As I explore what’s next, I’ve come to some important realizations: 

• I can do hard things, take risks, survive, and thrive, even if it takes some time to find a ball in my strike zone and connect; 
• I need to work and live in a way that is deeply aligned with my sense of purpose mission, and values—and worry less about whether I’m “happy.” Keep my eye on the ball. 
• I am excited about making a big move into something new professionally, and I’m open to the possibility of relocation, but I am not interested in moving across the country once more to reboot my whole life again in a new time zone. 

My social and spiritual web is what sustains and supports me in doing good, hard work, and in simply celebrating the beauty of life entirely apart from work. I am incredibly grateful for the friendships and community I’ve found at midlife. It took work, but it wasn’t rocket science or alchemy. I stepped up to bat and swung. And swung. And swung again. Not everything was a curve, and sometimes I connected. Now, almost 8 years to the day since I landed in California, I’m grateful to have found, and have made, a new home. To have made it home, even if I picked up some bruises sliding into the plate. 

And now I know a little of how much energy, and focus, and patience it can take to find one’s people and place again at midlife. 

At my first-ever Giants game (June 24, 2023)

What challenges have you faced? What’s worked (and not) for you? What lessons do you have to share for this new epidemic? Let’s help each other through, friends. Let’s walk each other home.