December 20th 2024.
Loneliness and depression can be a powerful combination. I know this firsthand, as I found myself reflecting on this very topic in April of 2024. It had been two long weeks since I had a face-to-face conversation with anyone. As I was out grocery shopping, I realized that I had finished an entire bottle of shampoo since I last saw a friend. This may not seem like a big deal, but for me, it took two weeks to use up a bottle of shampoo. That's how long it had been since I had any real human interaction.
In my journal entry, I wrote about my day, or rather, lack thereof. My only interaction was with a self-service checkout machine, and I found myself wishing for an unexpected item just to break the ice. As I concluded my entry, I couldn't deny the fact that I was feeling incredibly lonely. But I suppose that's not surprising, considering I am part of what is being labeled as the "loneliest generation."
I was born in the late 1990s, a time when the world was becoming more globalized. My university experience was spent in lockdown, and my early career consisted of working over video calls. It's no wonder that research shows that individuals between 16-29 years of age are twice as likely to feel lonely often or always, which shifts the common perception that loneliness is something only the elderly struggle with.
As for me, loneliness was nothing new. My teenage years were filled with feelings of being misunderstood and out of touch. I was always awkward and arrogant, which left me with few friends and a constant sense of being an outsider. By the time I went to university, I thought I had learned to blend in and pass as "normal." I joined societies, went on dates, and had friends and boyfriends. However, I still felt like I didn't quite fit in, like I had snuck into an exclusive event that I wasn't supposed to be at.
These feelings of isolation continued to nag at me over the years, but it wasn't until spring of 2024 that they turned into a chronic state. I found myself without a job, partner, or any regular social group. I tried to make plans with friends, texting them to set something up, but most either said they were too busy or left my messages on read. It was a tough time for me, and I was already struggling with depression. And let me tell you, loneliness and depression can make for some powerful allies.
However, I don't think we can solely blame our "loneliness epidemic" on external factors. There seems to be something inherent in the way my generation, Gen Z, treats one another that contributes to our sense of isolation. We have a habit of "quiet quitting" friendships, ending them passively by putting in minimal effort. We prefer "low maintenance" friendships and are experts at ignoring each other, whether it's blanking texts or declining to meet up and labeling it as "self-care." In fact, a study showed that 71% of Gen Z has broken up with someone by ghosting, compared to only 34% of Gen X. If the War Babies are known as the Silent Generation, then Gen Z could be called the Radio Silent Generation.
But as someone who has felt lonely for most of my life, I wonder why we are so quick to tune each other out. I understand that we have been raised to reject obligation, with social media influencers constantly telling us that we don't owe anyone anything. And while I do believe in taking care of ourselves, I think we have blurred the lines between obligation and kindness.
We have reached a point where we use self-care as an excuse for neglecting others. We drop friends when they're no longer "fun," and we ignore those who need us most because it may have a negative impact on our own mental health. It's essential to prioritize ourselves, but we also need to show kindness and compassion to those around us.
Technology also plays a role in exacerbating the issue. With so much of our lives happening over text, we have learned to believe that people can be put on pause, marked as "unread" for days, weeks, or even months, until we are ready to respond. But the truth is, people can't be put on hold. We don't stop existing just because it may be inconvenient for someone else.
I have to admit that I'm not innocent in all of this. I have never been a fan of phones and the constant pressure to always be "on." I used this as an excuse to go days without checking my messages. It wasn't until I found myself feeling incredibly lonely that I realized the impact my own social media boycott may have on my friends.
I'm not saying that Gen Z is incapable of caring for anyone other than ourselves. People and generations can change. In fact, I can say that I am feeling a lot better than I did back in April. After two weeks of isolation, I reached out to a friend and admitted how I was feeling. They immediately agreed to meet up, and it was all it took for me to feel a little bit better.
But the reality is that I still spend a lot of time alone, and I can't rely on a few kind friends to always be there. The only way to combat Gen Z's loneliness epidemic is if we all make a conscious effort to look out for one another. This means checking up on friends we haven't seen in a while, responding to texts, and making time for each other. We need to shift our mindset from "we don't owe anyone anything" to one of compassion and kindness.
So, while it's okay to take some time for ourselves, we also need to remember to be there for others. You don't have to be lonely, and neither do your friends. Let's all make an effort to look out for one another and create a more connected and less lonely world.
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