The epidemic of never being alone
Does the loneliness epidemic have a twin sister that is aching for quiet, solitude, and nakedness?
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I hit an important milestone earlier this week. On Tuesday, my partner finally went back to work in person, and I had the house to myself for the whole day for the first time in two years.
I dropped my toddler off at preschool, and then I wasn’t even sure what to do. It was exhilarating and overwhelming. So much privacy!
When I came home to my apartment, it had that delicious hush of a space that is unoccupied. How I had missed that stillness. No one on a Zoom call in the other room. No waiting for the silence to be pierced any moment by someone bursting through the door.
Before me lay a long, luxurious stretch of being alone, in my own home, for hours on end. I mean, I still had to work from home, it wasn’t a total holiday. But it still felt like some kind of spa day. (On my birthday a couple months ago, I went to an actual spa to get some quiet time, but this somehow felt different.)
Now that I’m thinking about it, it has been more than two years since I have had my house to myself. I actually can’t remember spending a day home alone since I had a baby, three years ago.
Do you relate to this? If so, you’re not alone. Between parenting and the pandemic, many parents, especially women, have been deprived of any time to themselves.
Much has been written about the epidemic of loneliness, even before COVID lockdown, and loneliness coverage has reached a fever pitch during the pandemic. I don’t mean to downplay the impacts of loneliness, which are extremely serious—ranging from mental health crises to predisposing us to physical illness like cancer and heart disease.
In my heart this makes perfect sense—I have no trouble believing that not having a place to belong, or feel seen, is debilitating and actually changes us on a cellular level.
I’m also wondering, now, what happens to our spirits and bodies on the flip side of that. What are the debilitating effects of never having the space or stillness to be alone, to be with and create your self?
There doesn’t seem to be nearly as much research on the impacts of never being left alone (and I can’t help but suspect that this is because this is a problem that largely afflicts women, whereas loneliness is more likely to impact men). But science does have some answers.
If being deprived of alone time makes you feel stressed and irritable, that’s because research shows that solitude reduces stress and helps us regulate emotions. A 2017 study found that solitude improved emotional well being, and also unexpectedly made it easier to relate to other people, when participants were able to choose to be alone when they wanted it.
Researchers found that alone time provides “a temporary haven to withdraw and self-regulate, after which one can rejoin society better equipped to relate positively with others.”
Anyone who has ever felt the life-giving satisfaction of laying on the couch alone, wrapped in a blanket and eating a bag of chips, knows this intuitively. But it’s nice to see it supported by peer-reviewed research. We sometimes think of those activities as “guilty pleasures” instead of healthy alone time. Research also shows that alone time improves empathy, boosts creativity, and allows us to know ourselves, and there’s a very large body of work showing that solitary activities like mindfulness and meditation actually re-wire our brains to be calm and resilient.
Interestingly, in the largest study ever done on rest, an online survey called the “Rest Test,” respondents reported that the things that they find the most restful are usually done alone. Reading came in first, followed by being in nature, being alone, and doing nothing in particular.
What also struck me about the responses, which include 18,000 people from 134 countries, is how many of the top 15 responses are things that are usually done alone at home: reading, taking a bath or shower, doing nothing, listening to music, being with animals, doing creative arts, meditating.
As our homes have become our offices, gyms, schools, and daycare centers, many of us have found ways to be alone outside the house. I often go for walks and listen to podcasts, do yoga in my room with the door closed, or just sit in my car with music on.
But it is not as restful as being alone inside my house. It turns out that to feel rested in our minds and bodies, humans want to be alone at home.
Here is a short list of things that I have missed the most about being alone in my house:
Noticing the way that the light shifts in my home, and the way that my mood fluctuates over the course of the day when I’m not interrupted.
Eating an apple (or eating anything, really) as loudly and messily as I want.
Composing a meal of nothing but the weird snacks in my fridge that I like to eat, and not worrying about feeding anyone else. (Hummus toast, anyone? Yogurt and toaster waffles for lunch?)
Hearing my neighbors padding around upstairs and feeling not alone, but also deliciously alone.
Trying on clothes and hairstyles in my bedroom mirror with the door thrown open, not waiting for someone to knock or burst in.
Gossiping and laughing on the phone in privacy.
Crying in privacy.
Looking forward to being reunited with my partner at the end of the day; the anticipation of walking to meet him at the subway and catching sight of him on the sidewalk before he catches my gaze.
I asked people on my personal Instagram account and the Matriarchy Report Instagram what they suggested I do with my precious, new-found alone time. There were lots of great suggestions for baths, naps, and blasting music. I waited for the first person to suggest healthy masturbation practice (she knows who she is; gold star!).
But there was something in the results that I didn’t expect: a surprising number of women enthusiastically endorsing casual nakedness.
“Walk around naked drinking coffee!” one wrote. “Work naked,” “Run around naked, blast your fave music.”
A lot of women right now, it seems, long to be naked by themselves. This struck me as amusing at first, and then more profound. One of the things about being home alone that is most restful is the singular lack of surveillance. We want to be home alone to be free of guilt, to not be judged, to be free of being seen. Being seen has weight for everyone, but especially for women.
In my uni class this week, we are studying John Berger’s “Ways of Seeing,” in which he describes the way that women have historically been presented as objects for display, first in nude European oil paintings, and now in images of women that we see everywhere. Women constantly meet glances, he says, that “remind them of how they look, or should look.”
As a result, he says, women have been socialized to see themselves as a sight in public, and even within their own homes. “When she is walking across a room, or weeping at the death of her father, she cannot avoid envisioning herself walking or weeping,” writes Berger. The only time a woman can be free of the gaze of others is when she is alone. He notes that women as depicted in art are not naked, which means to simply be oneself without clothes, but are “nudes” to be consumed by a viewer.
It makes sense to me that women right now might be longing to be alone, free of any gaze, in order to really rest. And being naked alone—to be oneself but without clothes on, without anyone’s judgment—might be the greatest experience of freedom a woman’s body can have.
I spent Tuesday alone in my house. When I left to meet my partner at the subway stop and pick up my daughter, my house felt a little more like my home. I felt like I had reclaimed some of it as a space of respite and privacy; I felt a spark of hope that I could reclaim the intimacy of my bedroom now that my students, and my boss, have been in it. I felt a little more like myself, a little more like a woman, a little more comfort in my own body.
I may or may not have done various activities naked, or danced to loud music, or napped, or eaten my toddler’s snacks as entire meals—nobody knows what I did on Tuesday. And that’s what made it good.
Instagram: @matriarchyreport Twitter: @laneanderson @allisonlichter
Original art by @joolsannie; see her work here. Used with permission.
I feel this on so many levels. My husband recently started going into his office one day a week. The sound of silence in my home on Wednesday’s after school drop off is loud even if I have my own work zoom calls. Exactly as you described.
I hadn’t been able to describe this need to be alone until I had to go in for breast MRI about a year into the pandemic. An MRI tube provided me 45 minutes of solitude (!).
I especially appreciated your research pointing to our homes being a place to recharge. Nothing can replace “coming home” to relax when it is also our place of work, school, restaurant, and gym. I feel completely validated.
For now I am really enjoying my Wednesday’s where I can make myself lunch and put away my ONE dish into the dishwasher when I finish.
This is such a beautiful reflection and I feel it strongly. Also, this year I have vowed to do away with the phrase “guilty pleasure.” I am trying to claim pleasure as my birthright and not feel shame for any pleasure I experience. In fact, isn’t guilty pleasure just a phrase that the patriarchy came up with to keep us tirelessly toiling away?