The cost of succumbing to the ease of being alone | The Post

Many of the conveniences of modern life encourage withdrawing from others, and being in control of our individual domain - but we should be wary of the cost of our solitude, writes Maja Whitaker.DANIEL TOBIN

The Rev Dr Maja Whitaker (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Pākehā) is academic dean at Laidlaw College.

OPINION: It’s generally agreed that to be alone at Christmas is a terrible thing. And while most of us are fortunate enough to spend this period with those we love, it’s often complicated. For some, the demands of these relationships are acutely difficult.

But, generally, it feels good to be with one another – to celebrate, to be generous and hospitable. If only these feelings lasted longer.

The truth is, we need connection and community all the year round. Social isolation is dangerous to our wellbeing – mentally, emotionally, and even physically – and it seems we’re on a dangerous trend towards it. The most recent wellbeing stats showed 44% of New Zealanders had felt lonely at some point over the previous four weeks.

One of the sneakiest contributing factors to this trend is the quiet overvaluing of comfort and convenience that has us shying away from the demands and inevitable friction of relationships with others.

We are made for community. At a basic level, it is essential to being human. But meeting this basic need isn’t easy; even healthy relationships inherently require both effort and self-sacrifice. To love inevitably invites suffering: if they reject us, if they leave us, when they disappoint us, when we disappoint them – sometimes it’s an “if”, but often it’s a “when”.

As a theologian, I’m fascinated by how the biblical writers talk about the challenges of relationships. They’re realistic about them, without diminishing their importance. They say things like “love from the centre of who you are”, “bear with one another in love”, and “as far as it depends on you, live at peace with one another”. They extend a call to deeply loving community, but it is never saccharine. The difficulties and the limits of our control are acknowledged, and we’re encouraged to depend on a higher power for the basic challenges of getting along with one another.

Because belonging requires something of us. Finding a place where we can belong is really important, whether that’s a church, sports team, book club, or friend group. There’s a sense that these are our people and we take some ownership for their wellbeing.

There’s a necessary follow-on from that, however: if we belong with them, we – in a limited sense – belong to them, too. That means they get to ask something of us, they get to have input in our lives and, sometimes, we’re expected to put their needs above our own.

This can be confronting for those of us conditioned by a culture that has taught us that so long as we’re not directly harming others, our autonomy – getting our own way and being our own selves – should be prized above all else. Embracing this culture sees us become little rulers of our lonely miniature kingdoms. No one can tell me what to do or ask anything of me, but I am the poorer for it.

We often need to sacrifice our comfort and even a degree of autonomy in order to pursue the greater goods of belonging and meaning. Of course there are limits here. We need to recognise what we are free to genuinely give, and guard against the unhealthy use of power, both towards and by us. But generally speaking, if I want to be part of something that is bigger than me, I can’t put myself first all the time.

This seems obvious when it’s said out loud like that. In the day-to-day it’s inconspicuous, because it plays out in mundane interactions: when I withdraw from those around me to the world of my phone, when I cancel plans because I can’t stir up the energy required, when I fail to start a courageous conversation with a friend, when I see a person’s bid for connection but decide to turn away.

It even plays out in the low-grade social anxiety that plagues our young people in particular. Interactions like asking for help at a shop or making a phone call feel risky for many as their tolerance for social discomfort has diminished.

All these interactions require something of us. Sometimes they’re really costly and sometimes it’s more than we are free to give – particularly if we’re living with a different set of needs to most. But good relationships don’t happen accidentally. They require us to be intentional, to lean in and to stick with it, even when the costs are inconvenient.

So in the year ahead, let’s do ourselves the favour of persisting through the friction. May we not let the lure of convenience and the habits of conflict avoidance rob from us the gifts of relationship. To do so would be to sabotage our own wellbeing.