article from straits times

Lonely hearts club

Loneliness is such a drag, as that Jimi Hendrix song goes. But in the end, it's only you who can chase your blues away

By Sumiko Tan

AROUND this time of the year for the past seven years, I'd be making plans to visit my sister a nd her family in America.

April may be the cruellest month to some, but it sure is a good time to drop in on her part of the world.

The chill of winter is over and spring is everywhere. You see it in the burst of white blossoms on majestic dogwood trees and in the freshly cut grass on picture-perfect lawns.

Best of all, summer fashion is in the stores and so I get to stock up on swimsuits, slippers and T-shirts.

This year, however, I thought I'd give my routine a break.

It's back-breaking work travelling so far, and how I've grown to dread the 27-hour plane ride each way.

Besides, my visits have become so predictable that, year in and year out, we do the same old things - eat at the same restaurants, shop at the same shops and gossip about the same topics.

Still, I'm beginning to regret not visiting them this year.

I miss my niece, in particular, who's now at that gawky pre-teen age where she's all limbs, missing teeth and unmanageable hair.

She's still young enough to allow me to cuddle her yet finally mature enough for us to conduct decent, two-way conversations that go beyond her current obsessions (last year, all she'd talk about were the rabbits in Watership Down; the year before it was Finding Nemo).

But I think I'll stay away this year. Absence is said to make the heart grow fonder, and so I reckon that the less she and her brother see of me, the more they'd miss me and treasure my visits.

Because, much as I adore them for just being themselves, I do have another motive for showering them with love: In my heart of hearts, I have to admit that I see them as an insurance against the loneliness of old age.

ONE of the scariest spectres of growing old - especially if you're single and female like me - is that of the lonely, crazy old spinster.

You know the stereotype: skinny as a twig, bent with osteoporosis, straggly hair in a bun, thick glasses, muttering to herself as she totters along clutching a plastic bag, alone, and with nowhere to go.

I'm not exaggerating, for I know of at least one such woman.

Every time I catch a glimpse of her, I fear I am looking at my own future. Sometimes, it scares me enough to contemplate getting hitched to any half-decent man I can find but, thankfully, sanity always prevails.

Still, loneliness can drive one crazy. If being alone on New Year's Eve brings on a twinge of the blues, imagine the horror of facing just your own company every day when you're old.

Of course, loneliness isn't restricted to the old or to singles, but chances of it descending on you increase with age, especially when you are unmarried.

When you are able-bodied and employed, so many things prevent you from being lonely. There are always colleagues to talk to, deadlines to meet and challenges to tackle.

But when these lifelines are taken away from you and you are staring at days on end with nothing to fill the hours, then what?

Loneliness is easier to fight if you have a family, for even if relationships aren't all harmonious, at least there is a network of support you can rely on - or just people with whom you can chat with.

Friends can be a buoy, but up to a point, for while you may have plenty of them when you're in your prime, who's to tell that most won't be of the fair-weather kind?

Which is why I'm banking on my niece and nephew to help me through my lonely old age, though, truth be told, who am I kidding?

Blood may be thicker than water, but it isn't that thick.

I have a widowed and childless aunt who lives by herself and I've no doubt she gets lonely. I sympathise and empathise with her, and I think of her fondly. But would I go out of my way to spend time with her?

Why should I expect my niece and nephew to be any different from me?

WHILE discussing the popularity of Internet forums and chatrooms the other day, a colleague remarked: 'There are a lot of lonely people out there.'

Yes, there are.

Loneliness, as studies have pointed out, is a complex condition.

It is different from solitude, when you detach yourself from the crowd and the result can be pleasurable.

Loneliness is a much more negative sensation, and there are gradations too.

Emotional loneliness is the term used when you feel lousy because you lack an intimate attachment to another person, and this can even happen to those who move in large crowds.

Social loneliness is when you are bereft of friends and family with whom you share common interests.

There are people 'born' to be lonely and who can't shrug it off. Maybe because of traits like shyness, a feeling of hollowness dogs them throughout their lives. Psychologists term this trait loneliness.

Others are hit by temporary loneliness because of circumstances, such as when they move to a new town, and this is tagged state loneliness.

The literature on loneliness provides advice on how one can avoid it.

Oft-cited tips include maintaining a high level of physical activity, since this is not only good for your health but gets you to go out to meet people, too.

You should also volunteer your services as this makes you feel useful as well as widens your social circle.

But while these tips are handy, they don't get to the root of the problem.

The way I see it, loneliness should be tackled head-on. Rather than fill your lonely moments with more and more company and things to do, would it not be better to fill them with yourself first?

By this, I mean looking deep within to unbury just what you fear about life and why, and to grow to understand and like yourself better in the process.

As the existentialist philosophers have long posited, aloneness is the essence of being human. You enter the world alone, you travel through it alone, and you will die alone.

Perhaps one can really feel at peace only if you accept - even embrace - this solitary condition first.

For, in the end, I only have me, and if I can't bear the prospect of my own company, now and in the future, then what is the point of existence, and how can the company of others - even my niece and nephew - possibly help me?