I've thought about writing this for a while now.
It's not strictly about autism, although it is related. Lots of autistic people are lonely, want company, but either lack the social skills or society lacks the skills for socialising with autistics (I'm increasingly leaning towards the latter, but that's another post for another day). But that said, a lot of autistic people are lonely because a lot of people are lonely. It can and does hit anyone.
But the loneliness, it's invisible. Many mental health matters have been, still are - including autism - and many people are doing fantastic work to bring them into the light. Loneliness, however, is different. Loneliness makes itself invisible. Loneliness is out of sight and of mind for those not suffering. Loneliness hides in plain sight and loneliness hides in dark corners. Loneliness inherently, inescapably, makes it hard for those affected to talk to those who aren't, to find support, to find a way out. Loneliness is doors closing.
I'm really fucking lonely.
When I was a teenager, I started to learn some skills for being sociable. Kind of thing most people would learn earlier, but hey, I know now that there was a reason for that (I was diagnosed aged 36) and I'm fine with it. Unfortunately, learning to fit my autistic ways into neurotypical society left me open to manipulation (I've found this is a common issue for autistic people, and will return to it another day) and I was trapped by an abuser. Trapped for nine years, in which time I was allowed no contact with anyone else, no friends, limited communication with family - always with the supervision of the abuser - and entirely controlled. Quite apart from anything else (again, I'll return to it another day) this devastated my social connections. Eight years after I escaped, I remain entirely isolated; I have some online friends, who are very important to me, but they are very far away. I see nobody, I talk to nobody; nobody sees or talks to me. That period of entrapment broke all connections to existing friends, and removed the skills to form solid relationships with new friends.
I decided to write about this now, because certain things have happened lately. I have been unwell and stuck in bed for a long time. As a result, my contact with any other people has gone from 'only talking to work colleagues about work issues' to 'talking to nobody at all'. Days become weeks, the social world drifts further into the fog. I have disappeared into the shadows of loneliness more deeply than at any time since the abuse ended.
Other things have happened lately. A number of famous individuals have tragically killed themselves. I didn't know any of these people, not personally, nor as a fan, but many others did and were clearly very affected by the loss. A great number took to social media, and - heartfelt and well-intentioned, without question - told the world to look to our loved ones, our friends, to reach out, to hold onto those close to you, and so on.
And this is a problem.
In all likelihood, right now, someone in fairly close proximity to you will be unbearably lonely. They may well have considered killing themselves before, they may do so in future, they may be doing so at this moment. They might go through with it. You're very likely not aware of this because, well, they're lonely. They're not going to be confiding in you, trusting you, telling you everything - that's what loneliness takes away. They may not be someone you'd ever speak to, or they may be someone you've spoken to but not recently, or someone you've spoken to recently but not about anything that really matters. They may be a closed door on your street.
And if you're saying that the core of helping those with suicidal ideation is to hold on to your loved ones, well, you've cut that person out. That lonely person, who needs someone to hold on to or just to talk to, just to sit beside, that person is being told that care and support exists for other people but not for them. That lonely person who, because of their condition, is already segregated from society, is in their moment of direst need having that segregation rammed into their face, over and over and over again. Yes, it is well-intentioned. Yes, they are the words of people who want to help. But those words, they hurt, they wound, they rip open scars.
For those who will kill themselves out of the unmanageable pain of seemingly-endless loneliness, where are the kind words? Instead of 'hold on to your loved ones', why am I not reading of people committing to going to that closed door and opening it and being friendly? Behind that door, there may be someone silently screaming out for company. And reading your words, on social media, unwittingly shoving them out the way because they lack loved ones to hold onto, when you could so easily be there for them.
And no, listing the number of a suicide hotline (again, unquestionably well-intentioned) is not enough. If what you need more than anything in the world is for someone, anyone, to cut away the isolation, a suicide hotline is not going to help. These are issues that can only be solved by people coming together.
I read something the other day. This is great (don't let the fact that it's from Cosmopolitan put you off), and every point is important. But there's one I particularly want to pull out:
Such a simple, tiny thing. The most basic and fundamental thing in any society: going over and sitting next to someone. But if the person who needs your company isn't saying 'hey, please, come over' (maybe they don't feel they can say it, for whatever reason), or if they've slipped your mind because you've not heard from them lately (that should be a red flag, by the way, one that any of us can easily miss), that doesn't mean you shouldn't go over. On the contrary, it might mean going over is suddenly the most important thing.
And hey, what's the worst that can happen? If it turns out they actually do want to be alone for a while? Thanks for coming over, see you again soon, yes? Nobody's hurt by that. It's fine. Or maybe they're actually having wild sex throughout the house every waking hour and have forgotten to make contact with anyone else. Worst outcome is you come away with a blush and a funny story. But if you don't go, if you think you shouldn't or you forget or you're just not bothered, what's the worst outcome? As bad an outcome as it can possibly be. They may no longer be there next time you happen to remember them.
I'm begging you. Look, I'm on my knees. And I'm getting old and it's going to take me a while to get back up. Please. If it's at all possible for you in your current situation, go out there and talk to someone you've not spoken to lately. Go around to visit someone who you've not seen getting out much. If someone you know has been unwell, go and make them a cup of tea, help them out, take them out, long-time illness can be dreadfully isolating. Put yourself into someone's life, someone whose life might be completely empty. Make that difference. Open that door. Save that life. Yes, it might take a little effort on your part. Yes, it is worth it. It is so very, very worth it.
(And if the person you're thinking of isn't close enough for you to directly visit, or it's not practical to directly visit for whatever reason, call them! Or send a text, or an email. Go and sit next to them figuratively even if you can't do it literally. Make sure to involve them next time you're doing something that you both could attend. However works best for the both of you, do it, be part of their lives, let them be part of yours.)
It's not strictly about autism, although it is related. Lots of autistic people are lonely, want company, but either lack the social skills or society lacks the skills for socialising with autistics (I'm increasingly leaning towards the latter, but that's another post for another day). But that said, a lot of autistic people are lonely because a lot of people are lonely. It can and does hit anyone.
But the loneliness, it's invisible. Many mental health matters have been, still are - including autism - and many people are doing fantastic work to bring them into the light. Loneliness, however, is different. Loneliness makes itself invisible. Loneliness is out of sight and of mind for those not suffering. Loneliness hides in plain sight and loneliness hides in dark corners. Loneliness inherently, inescapably, makes it hard for those affected to talk to those who aren't, to find support, to find a way out. Loneliness is doors closing.
I'm really fucking lonely.
When I was a teenager, I started to learn some skills for being sociable. Kind of thing most people would learn earlier, but hey, I know now that there was a reason for that (I was diagnosed aged 36) and I'm fine with it. Unfortunately, learning to fit my autistic ways into neurotypical society left me open to manipulation (I've found this is a common issue for autistic people, and will return to it another day) and I was trapped by an abuser. Trapped for nine years, in which time I was allowed no contact with anyone else, no friends, limited communication with family - always with the supervision of the abuser - and entirely controlled. Quite apart from anything else (again, I'll return to it another day) this devastated my social connections. Eight years after I escaped, I remain entirely isolated; I have some online friends, who are very important to me, but they are very far away. I see nobody, I talk to nobody; nobody sees or talks to me. That period of entrapment broke all connections to existing friends, and removed the skills to form solid relationships with new friends.
I decided to write about this now, because certain things have happened lately. I have been unwell and stuck in bed for a long time. As a result, my contact with any other people has gone from 'only talking to work colleagues about work issues' to 'talking to nobody at all'. Days become weeks, the social world drifts further into the fog. I have disappeared into the shadows of loneliness more deeply than at any time since the abuse ended.
Other things have happened lately. A number of famous individuals have tragically killed themselves. I didn't know any of these people, not personally, nor as a fan, but many others did and were clearly very affected by the loss. A great number took to social media, and - heartfelt and well-intentioned, without question - told the world to look to our loved ones, our friends, to reach out, to hold onto those close to you, and so on.
And this is a problem.
In all likelihood, right now, someone in fairly close proximity to you will be unbearably lonely. They may well have considered killing themselves before, they may do so in future, they may be doing so at this moment. They might go through with it. You're very likely not aware of this because, well, they're lonely. They're not going to be confiding in you, trusting you, telling you everything - that's what loneliness takes away. They may not be someone you'd ever speak to, or they may be someone you've spoken to but not recently, or someone you've spoken to recently but not about anything that really matters. They may be a closed door on your street.
And if you're saying that the core of helping those with suicidal ideation is to hold on to your loved ones, well, you've cut that person out. That lonely person, who needs someone to hold on to or just to talk to, just to sit beside, that person is being told that care and support exists for other people but not for them. That lonely person who, because of their condition, is already segregated from society, is in their moment of direst need having that segregation rammed into their face, over and over and over again. Yes, it is well-intentioned. Yes, they are the words of people who want to help. But those words, they hurt, they wound, they rip open scars.
For those who will kill themselves out of the unmanageable pain of seemingly-endless loneliness, where are the kind words? Instead of 'hold on to your loved ones', why am I not reading of people committing to going to that closed door and opening it and being friendly? Behind that door, there may be someone silently screaming out for company. And reading your words, on social media, unwittingly shoving them out the way because they lack loved ones to hold onto, when you could so easily be there for them.
And no, listing the number of a suicide hotline (again, unquestionably well-intentioned) is not enough. If what you need more than anything in the world is for someone, anyone, to cut away the isolation, a suicide hotline is not going to help. These are issues that can only be solved by people coming together.
I read something the other day. This is great (don't let the fact that it's from Cosmopolitan put you off), and every point is important. But there's one I particularly want to pull out:
When I was suicidal, I can't tell you how many times I just wanted someone to come over and sit next to me. We didn't even have to do anything. I just wanted them there. So go!
Such a simple, tiny thing. The most basic and fundamental thing in any society: going over and sitting next to someone. But if the person who needs your company isn't saying 'hey, please, come over' (maybe they don't feel they can say it, for whatever reason), or if they've slipped your mind because you've not heard from them lately (that should be a red flag, by the way, one that any of us can easily miss), that doesn't mean you shouldn't go over. On the contrary, it might mean going over is suddenly the most important thing.
And hey, what's the worst that can happen? If it turns out they actually do want to be alone for a while? Thanks for coming over, see you again soon, yes? Nobody's hurt by that. It's fine. Or maybe they're actually having wild sex throughout the house every waking hour and have forgotten to make contact with anyone else. Worst outcome is you come away with a blush and a funny story. But if you don't go, if you think you shouldn't or you forget or you're just not bothered, what's the worst outcome? As bad an outcome as it can possibly be. They may no longer be there next time you happen to remember them.
I'm begging you. Look, I'm on my knees. And I'm getting old and it's going to take me a while to get back up. Please. If it's at all possible for you in your current situation, go out there and talk to someone you've not spoken to lately. Go around to visit someone who you've not seen getting out much. If someone you know has been unwell, go and make them a cup of tea, help them out, take them out, long-time illness can be dreadfully isolating. Put yourself into someone's life, someone whose life might be completely empty. Make that difference. Open that door. Save that life. Yes, it might take a little effort on your part. Yes, it is worth it. It is so very, very worth it.
(And if the person you're thinking of isn't close enough for you to directly visit, or it's not practical to directly visit for whatever reason, call them! Or send a text, or an email. Go and sit next to them figuratively even if you can't do it literally. Make sure to involve them next time you're doing something that you both could attend. However works best for the both of you, do it, be part of their lives, let them be part of yours.)
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