How Long Can You Go Without Seeing Other People?

Are you waiting for the phone to ring?

I went five days last week without talking to any human beings in person.

I had a Zoom chat and numerous Facebook exchanges, and plenty of email, all work-related. A guy came out to fix my hot tub, but none of that really counts. Online is not the same, and the repair guy, although kind and efficient, let me know he did not need me hanging around while he did his thing. 

So, the days crept by. I took my walks and talked to myself and the neighbor dogs but not to people. I didn’t really need groceries, so why go shopping? I'm trying to lose weight so eating out was not a great plan. Choir practice was canceled for lack of a quorum. My neighbors were busy. By Friday, I hadn’t seen anyone except the folks on the TV shows I’m watching.

It happens. Everyone is busy. I live and work alone. There’s a lot to be said for spending your days with co-workers whom you enjoy. But if you work remotely, are self-employed, or are retired, who do you talk to?

More people than anyone would guess go day after day without speaking to other people. For some, it’s okay. For others, it’s downright unhealthy. Experts blame loneliness for all kinds of ills, including increased risk of heart disease, high blood pressure, depression, and dementia. (See this Psychology Today Article)

Friday, I had had enough. I walked to my neighbor's house, and she was home. We had a good old-fashioned visit with tea and cats and laughs, some of them over subjects that shouldn’t be funny but tickled us anyway—health quirks, things a relative with Alzheimer’s said, the way her old cat walked right up to a deer and they touched noses. 

All I had to do was walk two blocks and knock on her door, but it took me a week to do it. 

Sunday, I drove an hour each way to attend a writers’ group meeting and open mic and go out to dinner with some of them afterward. It was a long drive, and traffic was lousy, but it took me out of the house, away from the nine thousand decisions I have to make every day, the repairs that need to be done, the never-ending work at my desk, and the TV shows and video games that keep me pinned to my couch. 

I had a great time seeing people I knew and meeting others for the first time. They liked my poems, and I liked their work. At dinner at the New Morning Bakery in Corvallis, we talked and talked. The food was delicious, and it was the first meal in over a week that I didn’t eat while reading a book.  

My need for people was fed. 

My calendar is full for the rest of the week with Zoom meetings, a doctor’s appointment, and prep for the upcoming Oregon Poetry Association Conference that I’m helping to organize. I’m lonely today, but I have interactions with friends to look forward to. If I didn’t have my church and writing groups to bring me together with other people, I don’t know how I would deal with living alone.

People need people. A lot of us are happy occupying our homes solo, not having to please anyone or give up our freedom. Others who didn’t choose the solo life may hate the silence and the loneliness. But we do need human interaction, if for no other reason than when the shit hits the fan, we need someone we can call for help. 

We can’t wait for the world to reach out to us. 

It’s Tuesday. My telephone hasn’t rung since my last nuisance call on Friday. My incoming texts have all been about business or who I’m going to vote for. No one has knocked on my door. I could and often do feel bad that people aren’t reaching out to me the way I think they should. I could dwell on that. Or I could choose who I want to spend time with and go make it happen. 

I’m not good at it. Some days, I’d rather fall into a funk than make a phone call, even if making a call is exactly what I need to do. The only outgoing call I have made lately was to get my hot tub fixed. I have thought about calling friends and relatives, but I didn’t do it. No wonder it’s so quiet around here.

Let me tell you something about myself that I don’t share often. When I was a little girl, living in a suburb in San Jose on a street full of other kids my age, I was too shy to knock on anyone’s door or call them on the phone. Boys in the neighborhood stormed our front door wanting to play with my brother, but I paced in front of our house, hoping another little girl would come outside and invite me to play with her. I'm still that scared kid waiting to be noticed, but we have to step out of our comfort zone sometimes. Thank God for email and texts. They’re so much easier for shy people. But you still may have to initiate the conversation. 

Most of us are not stranded on an island or imprisoned in solitary confinement. We can reach out to other people, even if we don’t always do it. Let’s talk about it. How long can you go without human interaction? What do you do when you get lonely? How hard is it for you to reach out to friends or take a chance on a group of strangers? What holds us back?

Further Reading

“How extreme isolation warps the mind” (bbc.com) This article is scary.

“Are You Socially Isolated? Learn the Signs and How to Get Support” (healthline.com)

Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/an-elderly-woman-looking-at-a-framed-photograph-8861592/

---

Did I get a dog yet? People keep asking, and the answer is no. I haven’t had time to look, plus I’m having this health problem I need to get a handle on before I can take care of anyone else. Nothing fatal, just annoying. However, if someone finds the perfect dog–an adult mid-sized short-haired female–let me know. 

---

How did I end up alone? I didn’t have any kids. After my husband and I retired to the Oregon coast, far from family, he died of Alzheimer’s. You can read our story in my new memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available now at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.