How to Combat Loneliness When You Finally Live Alone

When Amy Crumbaugh decided to leave her hometown of Bloomington, Indiana, to enroll in a BFA program in Chicago in 2012, she thought it would be best to live alone.

“I was older than most of my classmates and roommates, and I desperately needed my own place,” she says. “I wasn’t existing at the hyper-speed of someone in their early 20s, and I view home as a safe space. I decorate and cook, and most of my roommates were happy to just have a sofa and a Hot Pocket at three in the morning.”

Amy got her own apartment inside a high-rise in the city’s South Loop, steps from Michigan Avenue. In the beginning, she describes this setup—which was complete with a big closet and an in-unit washer and dryer—as a sort of Carrie Bradshaw fever dream.

“I could go to sleep with a clean kitchen and know that I would wake up with a clean kitchen; I could walk around naked and take long, undisturbed naps on the couch,” she remembers. “I never had to worry about someone else imposing their lifestyle on my sacred space.”

But then the loneliness moved in.

Lonely is an adjective with a sting, a word that’s often said in a hushed voice or not at all. And yet, it’s a feeling that Americans are experiencing on a widespread scale. In a much-publicized survey conducted by Cigna last year, nearly half of the country feels lonely, and younger generations—millennials and Generation Z—feel the loneliest of all. The culprits for these results have also been picked to the bone, with social media, screen-saturated interactions, and a lack of work-life balance being common sources of blame.

“People have always been lonely, but there is greater awareness of it today. What used to be private is now public, so people learn and talk about these issues much more than they did in the past,” says Dr. Kelly Campbell, professor of psychology at California State University, San Bernardino. “Another thing to keep in mind is that there are now more single households than ever before, and a key predictor of happiness and life satisfaction is social connection.”

The U.S. Census found that there are about 36 million single-person households throughout the country, comprising 28% of the population—a rise from 13% in 1960. For some, this statistic is an example of liberation. Men and women have used those intervening decades to rewrite the rules of midcentury adulthood, where degrees, travel, careers, and intermittent romantic relationships have created many paths to parallel the long-standing, cisgender road to marriage and children. In 2018, 29% of adults between 18 and 34 were married, whereas 59% of the same cohort were married in 1978.

But it’s also possible to see the struggle in these numbers too. How do you build the life you want when it means contending with what society expects of you? Like many millennials in the midst of this evolving cultural shift, Amy answered this question by creating the home she imagined—after all, she knew this was an opportunity her peers only dream about. She bought cozy throw pillows and an Urban Outfitters mug, finding the fun in things that reflected her personality.

As good as it was, there were bad times too. Amy soon discovered that it was work to schedule time to see friends, and meeting them meant commuting alone. So she passed on invitations, again and again. When she went out, the impersonal strangers crowding the streets mostly made her feel isolated rather than part of a community.

“I didn’t know what to expect from my 30s, but loneliness was never something that I considered,” she says. “I thought I’d be married and busy with whatever that entails. When you’re a kid, you never think of married people as lonely, right? Because there’s always the assumption that they must have each other. And I don’t want to imply that women need partners or children to feel content. I think it’s just been so deeply embedded into our mind-sets that even the most nontraditional among us have that lingering feeling of something being off.”

Isabelle Lichtenstein is a 22-year-old currently living in her first postgrad apartment, a studio in Manhattan. She works as an associate editor, and put herself on a tight budget to make living alone happen.

“My expectations were that I’d have a nice, calm place to return to at the end of the day to recharge,” she says. “It definitely became that space for me, but I forgot to factor in all the cooking, cleaning, and upkeep that comes with living alone. I don’t get to relax all that much.”

Like Amy, Isabelle settled in and made a routine. That’s also when the loneliness arrived, and came in waves that were hard to predict. She’s been lonely on a hot summer day while stuck inside working—a new shift from the childhood freedom of summer—and during a cold winter night when it was too cumbersome to venture outside.

“I work for a small company, so I felt isolated in the sense that I didn’t know anyone and didn’t want to go out and meet people alone,” she says. “It was this cycle where I’d feel lonely, go out alone to fight it, feel lonely while I was out, and then feel lonely again when I got home. The last time I felt lonely came after a weekend with my friends in another state. When I got home, I cried. I realized how alone I really was.”

As much as there are familiar culprits for loneliness, there are known remedies for it too. Dr. Campbell recommends focusing on the positives of being alone, like finding time for self-care, reflection, and hobbies. She prioritizes in-person relationships, and advises an “active” use of social media to keep in touch with friends. She also thinks it’s wise to set limits around technology to keep from playing the comparison game, and to push yourself to meet new, like-minded people in clubs or at events. And lastly, she notes that if the loneliness is prolonged or deepens into depression, then it’s a good idea to seek therapy.

“For some people it might be a quick fix, and for others, it may be a lifelong trait,” she says. “Loneliness can ebb and flow depending on what’s going on in a person’s life, but if loneliness persists for years, then a long-term approach is needed.”

Melinda Skutnick says that she doesn’t have much experience with loneliness, even as a 34-year-old who has lived alone for the past six years in Mooresville, North Carolina. Melinda initially thought she’d be scared of this living situation, especially as a freelance writer, so she adopted a dog. But over time, she’s felt empowered by making her own decisions, which include dealing with occasional loneliness.

“When that feeling emerges, I either actively repair it by meeting with friends in the moment or arranging future events to look forward to,” she says. “I also remind myself that I not only chose to be alone, but that my life as a whole is abundant and exciting even if I’m overcome momentarily.”

Amy is now 32 years old and living back home in Bloomington, Indiana. The two years she spent solo in Chicago were what she calls “having too much of a good thing,” at least for her. But she wouldn’t change the experience, nor would she do it again. If anything, living alone taught her how to be lonely—but to a point.

“I make plans that I know I will keep, and I ask for help when I need it,” she says. “When my anxiety and agoraphobia come back, I tell my friends how I’m feeling and sometimes ask them to meet me more than halfway. So, can they pick me up or drop me off? I’ve learned tricks to keep my fondness for solitude from snowballing into something worse.”

Originally Appeared on Architectural Digest