Lonely Britain
When Esther Rantzen wrote in the Mail about her aching loneliness, she broke a great social taboo. The huge and heartfelt response she received paints a devastating portrait
By Esther Rantzen
I admitted that now I have been a widow for ten years, with grown-up children who have busy lives of their own, I dreaded the empty weekends and didn’t go on holiday this year because it seemed pointless to go somewhere gorgeous without anyone to share it with.
Worst of all, I confessed I had started pressurising my daughter to give up her independence and move in with me. I didn’t expect much sympathy.
All by myself: But Esther discovered she isn't alone in feeling lonely
But then a strange thing happened. Of all the articles and books I have written, the subject provoked by far the greatest response. I was inundated with letters and emails — some expressing sympathy, others advice, but most sharing their own tales of aching isolation.
It was only as I read them that the scale of this epidemic of loneliness in Britain started to become clear to me.
Their stories chimed with a shocking report earlier this month from a group called the Campaign To End Loneliness, focusing, in particular, on the ‘pernicious impact’ of isolation on older people.
It included the startling fact that, according to the World Health Organisation, loneliness poses a huge health risk — even more, they say, than smoking. The report estimates that loneliness ‘blights the lives of about one in ten older people’.
So what lessons can be learned from the many, often moving, responses I received?
The first is that loneliness is a subject we need to talk about, because unless we do, we can never solve it. And solve it we must. Because what was most clear from your letters is that loneliness is all around us, yet too often it remains invisible.
'Loneliness has a shaming quality born out of the perception of social failure. It is an ache that dares not speak its name'
But we don’t talk about it because loneliness bears its own stigma. Many correspondents wrote about the ‘shame’ they felt, and how ‘brave’ and ‘honest’ I had been, and in their letters they revealed just how much of a taboo there is in admitting that you feel lonely.
In fact, one friend was angry with me for writing about my predicament. ‘How could you, Esther? Don’t you have pride?’ he said.
Another friend neatly summed up why people don’t admit to loneliness.
He told me: ‘Loneliness has a shaming quality born out of the perception of social failure. It is an ache that dares not speak its name for fear that people will think us needy, and so will shun us like an empty restaurant.’
As a result, it seems there are many people who prefer to disguise their loneliness and put on a brave face to the wider world and even to their families.
‘J’ from Surrey wrote to me: ‘When I was first widowed, I told my family I was “fine” so they were able to go back, as they should, to their busy lives. By trying not to make a fuss, though, we may have shot our ourselves in the foot!’
But sharing our feelings, and knowing you are not the only one to experience this, is a source of comfort.
Esther didn't like to talk about loneliness because it bears its own stigma
Instead, I found many suggestions about ways to alleviate the symptoms; something as simple as keeping the radio on, or buying a puppy, or learning new skills. Many who wrote had forced themselves to be proactive and were now reaping the benefits.
Pat Woods, aged 68, from Lincoln, said that after she lost her husband Alan, she knew no one would walk up her garden path and take her under his wing — ‘so I decided I had better try to do something myself.
‘I had a cheese-and-wine evening, and invited ten widows. Like you, I thought weekends were dreadful, and so I suggested that on the first Sunday of the month we should take it in turns to meet at each other’s homes.
'I have plenty of people to do things with, I just have no one to do nothing with'
‘We have enormous fun, much laughter, and when you are feeling low, there is always someone there who understands.’
Margaret Bell, from Tonbridge, had a similar inspiration. Four years ago, she and two friends started up CAMEO (Come And Meet Each Other) — and they do, 40 men and women. Most of them are bereaved, but not all.
‘We manage to find at least 12 things a month to do: Sunday lunches, films, shows, walks, minibus outings, plays, concerts,’ she told me.
‘Last year, 11 of us went on our first CAMEO holiday to Scotland, which was such a success that this year, 15 of us went to the Isle of Wight.’
Of course, there are existing organisations that can fill the gap for some people. The Church is widely praised, as are the Women’s Institute and the Townswomen’s Guild. Institutions like these are ones we should treasure.
But, for others, activities are not enough to ease the sense of isolation. And it’s especially so for those, like me, who lose a soulmate.
My husband Desmond Wilcox died in 2000 after 23 years of marriage. I have plenty of work to distract me, but my home is dark and empty when I return at night.
As the legendary journalist Felicity Green once said: ‘I have plenty of people to do things with, I just have no one to do nothing with.’
Empty home: Being without husband Desmond Wilcox is the worst part of Esther's loneliness
I know only too well that for some of us the loss of that life partner — the warmth, the laughter, the sharing — is the sharp edge that draws blood. Having experienced that closeness, you miss it desperately.
While some are lucky to meet new partners, many don’t. And I don’t think there’s any easy solution, except perhaps to learn to count your blessings.
As I read the kind, brave letters I received, I felt as if I’d suddenly found a new community of friends.
But some, of course, have taken me to task. They rebuke me for not appreciating how lucky I am to have my health and my family.
I do know that. And I am hugely fortunate to own a cottage in the country, with a lovely garden that Desmond created with me.
Jacqueline Norris from Farnborough points out that I’m daft just to sit at home fixing myself the single person’s constant meal of cheese and biscuits.
‘You say you have a country cottage — so use it!’ she reprimands. ‘Marvel at nature. And do cook for yourself – just something simple. You will enjoy the preparation — and the satisfaction of being able to tell the family what you’ve enjoyed.’
‘My greatest fear is being regarded as a burden on anyone’
Eighty-three-year-old Pat, an ex-nurse, told me kindly but briskly: ‘Esther, count your blessings and go and volunteer. Go to bed tired and feed yourself properly.’
Olive, from Romsey, was tougher. She says she was ‘incensed’ by my attitude. She roundly declared: ‘I am now 87 and am aware every day of my good fortune. At Esther’s age, I holidayed alone, walked and enjoyed my garden. Grow up, Esther.’
Responses like these stiffened my spine; these women are so uncomplaining and courageous. Then a lady from Pembrokeshire stirred my conscience when she told me I didn’t ‘know the first thing about loneliness’.
She asked me not to print her name — because ‘it makes me ashamed to admit these things’ — so I will call her Sheila.
‘Your whinge about loneliness made me angry,’ Sheila, 77, wrote. ‘I have been alone in a cottage in this tiny village since my beloved husband died eight years ago.
‘Unlike you, I have no children, no siblings, no parents or relatives at all, and my friends are either dead or far-flung.
‘The village is full of families who are entirely insular, which is understandable; but there have been times when I have not spoken to anyone for weeks, especially as I am often ill. I have survived cancer and a broken hip.
Sheila belongs to the growing numbers of older people who are imprisoned in disability and poverty, and it is their plight that inspired the Campaign to End Loneliness, which was launched earlier this year, backed by four national charities.
The report accompanying the campaign stressed that loneliness is more than just socially embarrassing. It’s the ‘hidden killer’ of the elderly, because those who suffer ‘intense’ loneliness are at increased risk of depression, bad eating habits and poor physical health from lack of exercise.
And they predict it will only become more acute in the future as people live longer and families become more disparate and dispersed.
According to Dr Ishani Kar-Purkayastha, writing in the Lancet, there are already too many ‘men and women who are not yet done with being ferocious and bright, but for whom time now stands empty as they wait in homes full of silence; their only mistake to have lived to an age when they are no longer coveted by a society addicted to youth’.
But as the campaign highlights, loneliness can be conquered if there is the will to recognise it, if we battle against the stigma and work to overcome it.
While the internet and the telephone may be useful tools for communicating, we need to treasure the opportunities we get for ‘a chat and a cuppa’.
WHO KNEW?
A survey found 60 per cent of those aged 18 to 34 spoke of feeling lonely often or sometimes, compared with 35 per cent of those aged over 55
And best of all, as one interviewee told the charity Age UK: ‘You don’t need a Criminal Records Bureau check to be a good neighbour.’
So I will treasure the huge bundle of letters I have received from people who have so much vitality and vision. And they have prompted me to make some new resolutions myself.
I will attend the campaign’s forthcoming conference on tackling loneliness, which they are organising in a month’s time, to hear of other groundbreaking projects around the country designed to bring people together.
I will also explore ways of using television to tackle this issue, because it is crucial to our physical and our emotional health.
And I will consider an idea put to me by Ada, an old friend who is now in her 80s and has been on her own for 31 years since her husband died.
‘Esther,’ she said, ‘you need a companion, and you need more exercise. The answer’s simple. Buy yourself a rescue dog.’
Good idea, Ada. The dog and I may, after all, be rescuing each other.
I may seem to have it all - but I yearn for human contact
Sarah Bolitho lives in Cardiff and helps the disabled and the elderly to keep fit.‘On the surface, I have everything,’ says 53-year-old Sarah. ‘A successful career, a beautiful flat, good looks for my age and self-confidence. But underneath, I am extremely lonely.
‘I have been married and divorced twice, and I live far from my family. My daughter and granddaughter live in Durham, and my sons live in London.
Sarah Bolitho has been divorced twice and lives far from her family
‘I don’t see much of my sister, as she is very busy with her own life.
‘Similarly, my friends have families of their own — and I’m reluctant to intrude.
‘I’d love to have someone to go to films or the theatre with, but I’m too shy to pick up the phone.
‘Recently I bought two tickets for the theatre, but I couldn’t find anyone to come with me, so I ended up going on my own.
‘My greatest fear is being regarded as a burden on anyone.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2048488/Lonely-Britain-When-Esther-Rantzen-wrote-Mail-aching-loneliness-received-overwhelming-response-heartfelt-understanding.html#ixzz2FsCEbDTO
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