Lonely in a crowd

It’s unbelievable how heavy carrying the weight of loneliness can be. It feels crushing at times when you are living through it. The weight of an elephant, a thousand pounds or however you may want to describe it. It’s heavy. It’s sad. It’s … lonely.

There are all kinds of reasons why people feel lonely in this world. None are easy. The loneliness I feel and have felt in my life that I can speak about is from being disabled. Feeling so incredibly different at times, I wanted to come out of my own skin. Disappear because the loneliness felt so painful. In a crowd of 100 people, it can feel like everyone around you is talking around you, over you, not understanding. It’s not intentional usually, it’s just what happens. Things are said that isolate you.

I know from talking to my other friends who live with a disability that they too feel this kind of loneliness. It’s just that missing piece, someone else like you.

I will set the scene … I’m invited to an event where maybe I will know one person. I know it’s an event where many other people will be, and everything in me is telling me not to go. Social anxiety is real! But I also want to go and see my friend, and at least try to be social, so I accept the invitation. My friend and I agree to meet at the event because it’s just what logistically works best. I arrive, hopefully find an accessible parking spot, which if I do is a huge win and it takes a huge load off my mind.

Maybe get a couple of mean glances, as is the norm when you are youngish/healthy looking from a seated position and parked in an accessible parking space. I think to myself, “Today I am not going to let that bother me, I am here to have fun after all.” So, I shake it off and climb out of the car hoping the mean onlookers will catch a glance of my awkward gait as I walk inside with my trusty cane at my side. I enter the crowded room and the first person I look up to make eye contact with is looking at me like I have the plague and scurrying away. “Ok, I’ve still got this,” I tell myself, while nervously looking for my friend, feeling like this may have been a mistake. I get a half smile or two as I continue to look for my friend, and a couple more people staring and quickly turning away.

Then it hits. That lonely in a crowd feeling. I am the only person in the room with a visible disability. People struggle with approaching me or starting a conversation. They don’t want to say the wrong thing. They don’t know how to talk to me. It’s a terrible feeling to feel out of place. After several minutes I connect with my friend, and all feels right again. In the end, despite the challenges, I’m usually glad I went.

Once I’m able to talk with and connect with others there, they realize I’m not so scary after all. This is a scenario that has played out over and over in my lifetime.

Being disabled can feel very isolating. Making those connections with others who understand is important to bringing about a balance in my life. That rings true for anyone feeling any kind of loneliness. When you can connect with those who understand, it fills your cup and reignites your confidence.

Yesterday, I was at a grocery store and loading up my car. A woman approached me and asked if she could take my cart for me. I thanked her and told her how helpful that is to me. Our conversation eventually revealed that she also has family members living with Muscular Dystrophy. I was feeling alone and isolated when she approached me. There had been a woman in the store who wasn’t kind to me. I’m so grateful she took the time to offer kindness. It really turned things around for me.

I am just in awe of how the human connection works to relieve loneliness and hurt. It’s incredibly powerful and healing.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.