As I drove home from work and turned right onto the familiar street that would eventually wind around like a smile to my home, I briefly closed my eyes and tilted my face to the sky, enjoying the butterscotch sunlight still peeking through the leaves framing the street. I noticed with contentment the various groups of people clustered alongside one another, walking at a leisurely pace on the adjacent sidewalk.
It was April 2020. A new respiratory viral illness had just been uncovered, one that fragmented lives and disjointed communities all across the world. Uncertainty had unhinged society as unexpectedly as a cold gust of air on a warm summer evening. I thought one good thing would come out of this: maybe this pandemic will bring people together. Like during tragic events such as 9/11, shared fear and helplessness will help unite people. Maybe, just maybe, this could mend the fraying seams of our societal fabric. Two and a half years later, this could not be further from the truth.
Rather than connecting people, the coronavirus pandemic unmasked the loneliness that prevailed in many people’s lives. With its promise for expedient delivery of everything from groceries to film, technology usurped it rather than freeing us for more time. It has certainly offered innumerable benefits, such as improving access to educational and work opportunities, allowing us to be visited by a doctor remotely, and providing the opportunity to stay connected with family overseas.
But, it has not been without cost. It has also slowly crept into our pores, deceiving us into believing we cannot operate without it. We think to briefly go on Facebook or Instagram to post a picture and then find ourselves still there an hour later. More often than not, rather than seeing family members or friends connecting with one another in lively conversation during a meal, I see individual persons sitting side by side in silence as they stare at their cell phones, languidly sliding their index fingers upward on their screens: separate and distinct entities that are perhaps near one another physically but very far psychologically and emotionally.
The irony is that while we feel more connected by being in more frequent contact with others, we are actually less connected. Technological advancement, in some ways, has fueled stagnation and laziness; we can now work from our homes remotely, so even the last shreds of what remained to motivate us to get dressed, shower, have a routine, and connect with the world around us by seeing, hearing, and feeling—all of this is now optional. And when we do drive, we can get from our house to our office without any human contact.
With enforced curfews, quarantining, and recommended social isolation, people placed more and more distance between each other. I remember being out on a walk around the neighborhood with my two-year-old son. He saw a couple approaching us. They must have been at least fifty feet away. Without any prompting and without hesitation, he grabbed my hand and guided me toward the edge of the sidewalk, nudging me to cross the street so we could remain as far as possible from our neighbors. A few days later, as I was examining a six-month-old infant that had been in our hospital since birth, I wondered if he would be able to recognize his parents once it was time for him to go home, having only been exposed to masked humans. I felt intense sadness at this thought as if the meaning of connection, love, and what it meant to be human was disintegrating before our eyes.
The United States Surgeon General, Dr. Vivek Murthy, writes about loneliness as a universal condition whose antidote is human connection. The trouble with loneliness is that it begets loneliness. When we are lonely, we withdraw. We feel neglected and hurt, feeling as if we are living at the margins of everyone else’s lives. We feel ashamed that we are hurt and are fearful of being judged as ‘loners.’ We turn inward and shun even those who may reach out a helping hand, perpetuating and accentuating our loneliness. We reinforce our sense of not belonging and hide further. “Then the risk of self-destructive behaviors increases. Many people use drugs, alcohol, food, and sex to numb the emotional pain of loneliness. In this way, the combination of loneliness and stigma creates a cascade of consequences that affect not only our personal health and productivity but also the health of society.”
Indeed, it has been called an epidemic of loneliness by researchers, linked by a common thread with depression, anxiety, and burnout, to name a few. So then, how do we connect if loneliness perpetuates disconnection?
Brené Brown, an expert on vulnerability, defines connection as “the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.”
This requires presence — with ourselves and the spaces we inhabit. If we are present, we are able to remain in nonjudgment, allowing us the opportunity of experiencing genuine empathy. As Dr. Brown writes, “true belonging is not passive… It’s a practice that requires us to be vulnerable, get uncomfortable, and learn how to be present with people without sacrificing who we are.” The comfort and ease technology has brought us have erased the challenges that made it possible for us to appreciate one another.
After all, isn’t it much easier to send a disappointed text to a friend and avoid his reaction rather than meet and reflect on what disappointed us? While the former repels connection, the latter attracts it.
John and Stephanie Cacioppo, husband and wife neuroscientists, found that acts of kindness and generosity are extremely important in reducing loneliness by promoting gratitude and trust. When we offer genuine kindness towards others, it helps us by providing meaning to our actions, which in turn enforces our sense of belonging and connection.
We must first reduce our social isolation to increase our opportunities for interacting with others. Secondly, we must make the effort to interact meaningfully. Being a bit more vulnerable and open to contact opens the door to connection. We can repaint the image of people walking alongside one another on the sidewalk as dusk begins to settle and imagine that they are sharing this moment not out of boredom but out of a genuine desire to be with one another. Let’s cultivate a world of togetherness.
Giulia Faison is a neonatologist.
