I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness. In my daily reading and listening to podcasts, loneliness seems to be a sentiment that is moving through our cultural spheres at an alarming rate. On some days, it feels as if I can almost reach out and touch the loneliness in the air around me. It’s unsettling.
Maybe it’s because this is a somewhat reflective season for me, as a farmer. Maybe it’s because 2023 was an especially difficult year, personally and professionally. Maybe it's because I spend too much time on devices, and so little time around other humans that I sometimes feel I have forgotten how to have a normal conversation (as in, if it’s not about flowers or autism, I don’t have much to contribute.) Whatever the reason, it’s taken up a space in my life, and nationwide statistics tell me that I am not the only one who feels it. The thing is, I know I can fix it. I know I have the ability and the agency to make deliberate choices to connect and engage and alter this sense of disconnectedness that I have been feeling so profoundly. And I will.
I just need a moment.
As I navigate my way through the fog, I find myself wishing I knew how to talk to Raimee about loneliness. He occupies a place on the autism spectrum where words and the ability to articulate complex and abstract feelings are challenging for him. I try to listen in other ways- with my eyes and my heart. But then I find myself making assumptions that may or may not be his truth. I only wish I knew. Raimee seems to default to joy and positivity. He seldom has a negative thing to say. This is true even when he’s eating a food he very obviously dislikes (“Mom, it’s delicious”), and while I dearly love that he operates from a glass-half-full perspective, I deeply desire to know how he truly feels about his life, his work, and his dreams. For so many of us, language is an easily accessible tool in our survival kit. We can master and manipulate it to propel us towards the things we need and want. Without it, we are left interpreting the shadows of others which are greatly influenced by our own position and experience.
I went with Raimee to a community event this evening. I respectfully gave him his space (how many 27-year-olds want to hang out with their mom at a dance?) but the crowd was unfamiliar to Rai, and it was not an overly warm and inviting experience. I watched him bounce through the crowd of enthusiastic dancers, always by himself, and my heart absolutely ached. Even in a group of his peers, I saw what I perceived to be loneliness. And although Raimee said he had a fantastic time, my eyes and my heart saw a young man so desperately wanting connection, and yet so completely and utterly alone.
Community integration requires transportation, and nothing more. It is geography that we have clothed in a pretty linguistic dress. But it’s misleading. The practice of inclusivity calls for social integration, and that kind of interconnectedness requires effort, energy, and in many cases, skills. It means that, in addition to showing up, we have to put work into the spaces we inhabit with all kinds of people, and not assume that sharing a common feature makes us all the same. And, in these days and times, we may need to step out of our comfort zones, and risk the awkwardness and vulnerability that often comes alongside fostering authentic and deeper connection to those in our orbit who need us to do so.
I want to claim the words of our beloved (and greatly missed) past president, “Yes, we can.”
My ask, as we move intentionally into 2024, is that we look for every possible moment to grow a movement of social integration and take action, even if it violates our moment of loneliness, to lift up our neighbors, our community partners, and especially, our marginalized and often invisible populations with a hopeful word, a compliment, a way to collaborate, or an invitation to dance. Just do it. And know, in your heart, that when you show love, you always, always win. In our own, beautiful way, let’s change the trajectory of loneliness for those around us. I guarantee, (flowers to those who can prove me wrong) it will also change the loneliness factor for ourselves.
Wishing you a happy Valentine’s Day.
In love and light,
Rebecca, Raimee, and the Blawesome Crew