For some people, home is a constant, a building they’ve lived in for many years or a neighborhood whose back passages they know by heart. For others, home may be more of an idea they carry with them from house to house, town to town, perhaps even country to country.
Either way, it can feel lonely at times.
Even when your family lives close by, your barista knows your name, and long-time friends are regular dinner companions, we can still feel like we’re on our own. Maybe those dinners with friends are most often a circle of couples, around whom you feel like the dowdy tagalong. Or the physical closeness of family doesn’t translate to the emotional one you want. Or the romance you once thought radiated from the life of a rolling stone is more often a gnawing loneliness that reliably finds you come nightfall.
We rarely suspect others can be as lonely as we; they have full lives with large rosters of friends and social engagements. But even the most flirtatious social butterfly with the most intricate social tapestry knows what it’s like to feel isolated, stagnant, and left out.
Whether you’re trying to start over somewhere new or you’ve hit a wall where you are, I find we can make a lonely place feel like home by creating our own sense of belonging, rather than waiting for it to find us. Here’s how:
Internal belonging: Remember you are not your surroundings
It’s easy to forget. We have a tendency to mirror what we see around us, from the fashion to the lingo to the way we step on and off the metro. When we don’t feel at ease in our surroundings — be they new or long-standing — we can be quick to assume it’s our fault.
We are not like the others here; therefore, we are strange. We haven’t made any new friends recently or found a committed partner, so we must be intolerable. We don’t have any plans for the weekend; we do not have a place here.
But the truth is, we can have a place everywhere. We just have to make it for ourselves. In my Learnings from Five Years Living in a Different Country, I wrote about how living abroad, at first, made me question who I am, subconsciously altering my speaking voice, posture, and manner of dress. Eventually, I realized the person responsible for my awkwardness, my self-doubt, and my hesitance wasn’t the strangeness of my surroundings or the perceived aloofness of my peers; it was me. I had forgotten that I get to decide who I am and how I want to be and whether or not I feel like I belong — and that none of those things are dependent on my physical surroundings.
If you’re feeling lonely where you are now, remember that you need neither acceptance nor a savior to validate your identity and buoy your spirits. You can do that for yourself, for if you once had the power to be lively and bouncy and energetic, then that power is still within you, no matter where you are.
Social belonging: Invite people over
Of course, the fastest way to not feel lonely is to put yourself around other people. Sure, there is that old terror of feeling lonely in a crowded room, but when the room is your own and the guests are chosen by you, the odds of that terror taking shape drastically dwindle.
And it needn’t be a big party to merit an invitation. Why not invite an acquaintance over for tea? Or a few friends for a Sunday brunch? If cooking isn’t your strong suit, how about a potluck? Or simply wine and cheese?
It feels quite daunting, these days, to invite others into our homes. (In fact, The New York Times claimed the party died over 10 years ago.) And, yes, it can take a little courage to put yourself out there, reach out first, and initiate plans. That’s why I believe it takes a bit of a loner spirit to make new friends; when you’re confident and comfortable in your own company, it’s easier to make the first move and be the one who proposes new ideas.
My husband and I frequently host dinners and soirées, once even an extravagant, multi-course Easter brunch (with my husband’s culinary skills, not mine). These conversations around the table, on the floor, and away in far-off corners when two people really hit it off, are what have made our small apartments and used furniture feel like a banquet hall and what have turned light acquaintanceships into years-long friendships. They’re what have made what could have been lonely cities our homes.
Physical belonging: Prioritize beauty, whatever that means for you
In these tiny apartments, fraught with used furniture, leaky pipes, cheap IKEA wares, and even the occasional mouse, I stave off the listlessness, melancholy, and loneliness that hit us all at one point or another by making beauty a priority.
For me, that looks like postcards, paintings, and guitars scattered on the walls, mismatched teacups, an overflowing bookshelf, and dried flowers that stay with me even when the living have lost the good fight. For you, that may look like a wall of CDs, a painting drying on an easel, or a shelf alive with houseplants. Though we are not our surroundings, I would be remiss to say our living quarters don’t influence our mood. By letting our personalities leave a tangible mark, we can stake claim to what feels like an unwelcome, damp place and assert with color, texture, and shine: “I belong here.”
If you’re struggling with an uncooperative housemate, a difficult family member, or an otherwise less-than-ideal living situation that’s got you feeling powerless and alone, consider what corners you can reclaim for yourself, however you wish.
Your home is wherever you feel like yourself
I believe we feel the most lonely, not when we’re without friends, but when we’re without ourselves. That is, when we don’t have the internal peace and confidence to enjoy our own company.
When we don’t feel comfortable doing things alone, every place feels like a lonely place. But when we remind ourselves that we can belong anywhere, we are always capable of forming new relationships, and we have the right to live beautifully, we can stop waiting to be happy and start feeling at home, no matter where we go.
Read how to get through a difficult time for more ideas on how to find agency in your own life. These poems about new beginnings give a more artful take.
From guest writers, Isabel Ravenna shares her perspective on why living alone doesn’t have to be lonely, and Gavin Williams tells his story about moving to a new city in his thirties and feeling lonely in his “prime.”
