I attended a research seminar of the Loneliness and Social Isolation Mental Health Research Network last month.  Several sessions stood out to me, particularly the presentations by Maev Conneely and Angelica Emery-Rhowbotham.

In the first talk, Maev Conneely discussed how the literature addresses chronic versus temporary depression – rather messily, as it turns out.  She noted that ‘chronic’ loneliness was frequently mentioned but lacked a consistent definition.  The easiest definition from a research perspective is something temporal (were you lonely at this point in time?  Are you still lonely?). And yet there were many other dimensions that were much more qualitative, about the quality and intensity of emotional pain, the impact it had on people’s lives, and the links to early childhood experiences. It made me think about all the different ways in which people are lonely, and the fuzziness of language we have at describing those experiences.  

Maev talked about this idea that some people had, that loneliness was like hunger, it was giving us useful cues that we could then act upon.  Maybe a person moves to a new city, they feel sad because they don’t have any friends, they start doing a few social hobbies and make an effort to invite people out to coffee.  Easy. But for other people it can be much more complicated, their lack quality social connection might be because:

• Early experiences of mistrust, fear, or overwhelm in social situations.
• Internalised beliefs about being unworthy of connection after prolonged isolation.
• Living in rural or remote areas with limited social opportunities, fostering anxiety about meeting new people.

In my work, I’m interested in thinking about the ways in which people can get into patterns of avoidance or unhelpful beliefs, unfulfilling social relationships, and stories about what their isolation means – and how these can be gently pulled apart and unwound. The hope is that this gives space for people to try new things, if that’s what they want. However, loneliness is multidimensional, and what I do is just a tiny part of what, as a society, we need to be working towards to offer connections to all sorts of people. 

This brings me onto the other talk I found particularly interesting, which was by Angelica Emery-Rhowbotham, talking about this paper titled ‘Finding a Relationship’ Conversations Between Mental Health and Social Care Staff, and Service Users’. Angelica talked about how this had arisen from work with service users, who spoke about their loneliness and desire for a relationship.  In the study, they surveyed 63 professionals to talk about how comfortable and skilled they felt about supporting service users to do this. I found this fascinating. Partly, because it addresses a gap between what most people want (to be loved, to be seen to be cared for) and what public policy and institutions feel comfortable acknowledging and working with. Many of the respondents were interested in responding to this desire among the people they were working with for romantic or intimate relationships, but didn’t feel skilled, trained, or have the appropriate spaces (and perhaps policies) to do that in a boundaried way. 

In the discussion after the presentation there were concerns from some professionals about the risks of engaging in this kind of work. One respondent particularly highlighted the risk to women of getting into relationships during their recovery, which may end up in situations where their own recovery was made secondary to the recovery of their boyfriend. I’m sympathetic to this view, particularly as it seemed to be grounded in experience of working with these service users, and recognised the power dynamics that can occur in these relationships.  However, it left me wondering how it’s possible to make space for recognising these emotional, romantic and sexual needs, and start thinking about the skills of being in those sorts of relationships.  Many of those skills we use in all our relationships, such as monitoring our own needs, listening to other people express their own needs, managing our emotional boundaries when people set a boundary we don’t like or say something that upsets us, and working through conflict and upset productively. 

The stigma of prolonged singleness can be profoundly painful, especially as it’s often shrouded in shame and unspoken. Which is why I think it’s important to be able to name those needs, even if we aren’t able to meet them, or have them met, at this time. 

Reference

Emery-Rhowbotham, Angelica & Killaspy, Helen & Eager, Sharon & Lloyd-Evans, Brynmor. (2024). ‘Finding a Relationship’ Conversations Between Mental Health and Social Care Staff, and Service Users. 10.1101/2024.05.09.24307104.