Why are so many men lonely?
© Next Gen Men 2016
By Veronika Ilich
“How have you been?”
“I don’t even know how to explain.”
“Oh? What do you mean?”
My friend Greg and I periodically have conversations like this. I can generally tell when something is up.
“People only call me when they need something from me,” he said, sounding irritated, “otherwise I go weeks without hearing from anyone”.
“Sounds like you’re feeling a bit lonely.”
“Yeah,” he laughs, “more than a bit.”
“Well, now you have a word for it”, I replied, hoping to lighten his mood. He laughs.
Greg is as so many men are: lonely. He lives alone, he’s separated from his former partner, he doesn’t see much of his children, he has a couple close friends, and he wouldn’t say he’s close with any coworkers. He has a community at his gym — or he thought he did, but he’s questioning if he really belongs there.
He said his routine lately has been work, Netflix, and sleep.
While he couldn’t really explain it in these exact words, he feels forgotten, distanced, unloved. People he felt like he was friends with from his gym haven’t reached out to him much lately — except, as he articulated, to ask for favours.
“Do you reach out to people?” I ask him. “Sometimes,” he replies, “but I know people are busy and I don’t want to bother them”.
Part of his feeling lonely is also his desire to not feel like a burden. So many men are socialized to believe that they shouldn’t need anyone, that they should be tough, strong, and independent.
That’s not how we’re wired though.
Humans — regardless of gender — are wired for connection.
In the former Soviet Union, there were many children who went to overcrowded, understaffed orphanages. The staff were so busy trying to care for the basic needs of all the children — food, toileting — that the babies were rarely held or interacted with. While their physical needs for food and cleanliness were met, their deeply human, emotional need for connection was not. Many of these babies died, and those who lived had chronic behavioural and social issues growing up, and many had persistent health problems as well.
The truth is that we need connection like we need food. We need it to grow, feel whole, find joy, and become resilient.
Again: we need connection to be resilient.
Resilience is our ability to ‘bounce back’ from adversity. So in the end, needing others, prioritizing relationships, wanting human connection — this doesn’t make us weak, it makes us stronger.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy to articulate these needs though.
“So, for those friends that you feel like only contact you when they need something,” I continued, “have you told them how that makes you feel?”
“No”, he answered.
“They might think nothing of it then, if you don’t tell them how you really feel. They can’t read your mind.”
“Yeah” he says, but I know he’s not comfortable with the idea of opening up.
In patriarchal cultures, many men are also socialized to not talk about how they feel, especially if it’s feelings like sadness, loneliness, or pain. They can express joy, anger, or frustration — but not hurt. We’ve been told that hurt is dangerous, hurt can be used against us. “Don’t let them see you cry. Don’t let them see you bleed”.
Project invulnerability, like nothing can hurt you.
Again, this isn’t how we’re wired. We feel pain. Denying it only makes it worse. If we recognize, rather than deny, we can start dealing with it head on.
Learn to skillfully connect: Register for our upcoming Emotional Literacy Workshop to learn to name and explain emotions. Healthy relationships begin with communication.
You might feel like Greg, like my stepdad, like many men I know. Loneliness is real, and it hurts.
But you don’t need to stay lonely. It might be how you feel, but it’s not who you are.
In the novel I’m currently reading, the 12-year-old protagonist has a revelation.
A stranger opened up to him about something difficult, and he immediately felt connected to that stranger, since she had shared a piece of herself with him. He realized that by not telling others anything about himself, he was denying himself the possibility of connection while simultaneously denying others the chance to know him.
He learned the truth: vulnerability is the basis for strong relationships — relationships that combat loneliness, and are a source of joy, resilience, and meaning.
If you want to connect with others who care about men’s mental wellness, healthy relationships, and gender equity, come hang out with us in Calgary on April 6th. We’re hosting a Circle event on Healthy Relationships at the Dorset Pub. We’d love to see you there!
This blog was originally published on MEN&. Check them out to access free counseling if you’re a man in Alberta.
Veronika Ilich is the Community Manager for Next Gen Men. Find her at NGM events, on the Modern Manhood Podcast, or on our online Inner Circle forum! She is passionate about social justice, and in particular, gender-based violence prevention and eliminating poverty.