I am reading Loneliness: Human Nature and the Need for Social Connection by John T. Cacioppo, a neuroscientist at the University of Chicago, and William Patrick, a science editor for Harvard University Press. It is not a textbook but was written for scientific audiences.
Published in 2008, one of my Buddhist teachers recommended it to me when I asked him a question about retirement a few weeks ago. I was surprised by his recommendation—I am not lonely, and loneliness wasn't what I asked him about.
This isn't a feel-good self-help book. It reveals that loneliness is physically harmful in much the same way that being morbidly obese or smoking two packs a day is harmful. This is not a metaphor. By relying on brain imaging, blood pressure profiles, immune responses, levels of cortisol, and even DNA degradation, Dr. Cacioppo has scientifically established that if you could buy loneliness at the store, it would have to come with a government warning label like cigarettes do.
Egad. So what does it mean to be lonely? Isn't that something people kind of decide for themselves? For most of Dr. Cacioppo's work, he measured loneliness using version 3 of the UCLA Loneliness Scale. This is a questionnaire where one scores oneself 1-4, from "never" to "often," on questions like:
How often do you feel that you are "in tune" with the people around you?
How often do you feel that you lack companionship?
How often do you feel that there is no one you can turn to?
How often do you feel alone?
How often do you feel part of a group of friends?
Dr. Cacioppo further relied on other research that established three domains of selfhood: the personal self, the social self, and the collective self.
The personal self is that collection of features that belong to you alone—your height, your weight, your intellectual, musical, or athletic talents, your tastes and preferences, etc. These are the things that make you who you are that don't involve others.
The social self is defined by those identities that rely on other people: being Luke's mom, Bob's boss, or Sam's golfing buddy. This is who you are at a party or some other social gathering. This is being Tommy's girlfriend or Cindy's husband. These are the identities that rely on the existence of other people.
The collective self is defined by your inclusion in larger groups. This is being a Cowboys fan, an American, a University of Texas alumnus, a Smith, a Jones, or an Asian. This is like the social self but distinct in that it involves connections that are less a part of your daily life.
Each of these selves defines the three levels of connectedness we experience. We have intimate associations, friendly associations, and group associations. One can be Brian's wife, a member of a softball team, and a Hoosier all at the same time. Not surprisingly, the strength of connections across these groups is correlated; that is, people with good intimate partners also tend to have good friends and enjoy wearing their Mets gear out to bars in the fall.
But these correlations aren't causal. That is, there are profoundly lonely married people. There are people with lots of friends and no intimate partner. There are Yankees-crazy baseball fans outfitted in hundreds of dollars of fan gear sitting alone at baseball games. Missionaries report having partners and friends but no connection to the culture or people among whom they find themselves while on mission. Each of these mismatched conditions can contribute to loneliness, and because of matches in other domains, feeling lonely can seem irrational.
This is why my teacher sent me to this book. When I end my professional career, I will be disrupting connections in two of these three domains—the social and the collective. The advance in the rate of decline in health span that plagues some retired people can be attributed to inattention to these disruptions.
So yes, people do decide for themselves if they are lonely, but they may be perplexed as to why. If one has a wife and family but took much meaning from being a cop or firefighter, retirement can be profoundly lonely while you are flipping burgers and turning hot dogs on your backyard grill. One may have been dreaming of doing this for decades, but when it arrives, it feels empty, lonely, and pointless even while surrounded by loved ones. If one doesn't understand why, this can lead to depression, which is lighter fluid for these burning embers of disease.
Ignored, this covert social disruption is as harmful as taking up smoking or gaining fifty pounds after retirement—even worse when it happens in addition to new indulgence in bad habits during retirement. LBJ famously started day-drinking when he retired from the presidency in 1969, just before turning 61.
He died a little more than four years later, despite having Doris Kearns Goodwin in a bikini taking notes for his memoir by the pool at his ranch in the stunningly gorgeous Hill Country of Texas.
He was 64.
Very interesting! Years ago, my mother had taken a trip to visit a friend for a week and I cooked dinner for my father one night. He told me that he could not wait for her to be home because, “He did not like being lonely.”
It really struck me because he saw being alone for a week as being lonely where I saw being alone for years as normal and lovely. However, your post just gave me pause. I need to think about this further!!