Curing The Loneliness of The Stay-At-Home Parent

Being a stay-at-home parent is hard work. There’s no way around that. Now, I’m not saying that working outside the home isn’t hard. I’ve worked outside the home, and it most certainly is. But stay-at-home parenting is hard in a way that working outside the home is not–it’s lonely.

To the uninitiated, this might seem like a peculiar statement. After all, you’re surrounded by (at least) another person all day. In the bathroom. In the kitchen. In the bedroom. Everywhere. Sometimes day-and-night, over several days without any break. With all that exposure to, and interaction with someone else, how could you ever be lonely? Well, I’ll tell you! ‘Cause loneliness isn’t just about proximity to another human being. It’s about connection too.

Let me try to make the distinction a little more clear. There’s one type of loneliness, which I call proximity-based. If you were stranded on a desert island, you would be subject to proximity-based loneliness. There’s not a single soul within your proximity. Think Cast Away. That dude was lonely. No human contact for years. And we all know what happened there. He simulated human contact in the form of a volleyball. His name was Wilson. Because the volleyball was manufactured by Wilson sporting goods. Clever. But not a human being. Human contact is something we crave. It’s part of our nature. So, in the absence of human contact, we generate it, however we can.

Hey, does this guy know that wasn’t a true story?

Yeah, yeah. But I still think you can find truth in fiction. You know, that capital ‘T’ type truth. Truth.  

Anyway, that’s proximity-based loneliness. The other kind is something I call connection-based loneliness. Imagine you’re at a crowded party, but you’re bored out of your mind, and you’re not talking to anyone. Or, think back to high school, when you were super angsty, and felt like no one understood you. That’s connection-based loneliness. Sure, there are plenty of people within your proximity, but there’s a lacking connection.

With connection-based loneliness, it might seem that no one’s quite on your level–emotionally, intellectually, spiritually. It also might seem like you may be in sync with certain aspects of yourself, but lacking in others. Reflect on that time in college when you looked around at everyone and just thought to yourself, “I know I got a bunch of friends here, but there’s just something…missing. I wish I had a girlfriend (or boyfriend).” You had friendship, but you were looking for romantic love. As human beings, we are multi-faceted, and different parts of ourselves long for connection in different amounts at different times. And when we don’t get that connection, concerning any (or all) facet, we run the risk of feeling lonely.

In our everyday lives, this connection-based loneliness is what I think we’re prone to experience more often. Sure, there are spurts at school, at work, and even in our personal lives where proximity-based loneliness is real. But, typically, we don’t get stranded on desert islands, and we get back to others relatively soon. The loneliness that keeps us up at night, or saddens us during the day, is the connection-based variety. And this is what I get as a stay-at-home parent.

Yes, being with my kids all day as a stay-at-home parent is great. There’s nothing like the parent-child bond. The smiles. The giggles. The hugs. The cute sayings. But here’s the thing–it’s not a full connection yet. It’s just not.
I can’t have an enriching, mature dialogue with a two-and-a-half-year-old child. Not enriching for me, at least. Because I’m an adult. My child is not going to tap into the fullness of my intellect, mirror the depth of my emotions, or share my full sense of humor. Not yet. One day. But not when they’re young, and require me to stay at home with them.

No, I watch things like The Finger Family and Baby Shark. I laugh about the word “stinky.” I explain what waiting your turn is, and why we use “please” and “thank you.” I change diapers, and argue over why this waffle is good and that one is yucky (they. are. the. same.), and put people down for naps, and generally keep the crying to a minimum. All important. Some of them challenging. And, sure, I grow and develop as a human being as the result of interacting with my kids. But I don’t engage in a way that speaks to my mature adulthood–to my full human experience. Which is why I would never claim to have a two-year-old best friend. I love my two-year-old immensely–more than my best friend, even. I still need my best friend, though, because I connect with them through different aspects of myself.
As a stay-at-home dad, however, the facets of me that receive connection are somewhat limited.

When you’re at work, you see other adults, have adult conversations, and encounter things that make you really think, or laugh. You engage with people on your level who aren’t your spouse and not your kids. You have the opportunity to form peer connections based on shared experience, common understanding, and equivalent capacity. If you stay-at-home, that’s tough to come by. As a result, it’s really important to find others who you can connect with. Maybe it’s a single friend with a flexible schedule. Maybe it’s other parents. Maybe it’s your parents or in-laws (now that I’m grown up with kids, I find the connection to my folks even stronger). Maybe it’s even an online community. (I’m noticing Twitter has some serious parental camaraderie).

I need to be better at scheduling time to interact with these people–even if it’s for a few hours a week. It’s not selfish. It’s necessary. My children need my full self, at full capacity. They need an adult–someone who thinks, acts, speaks, and feels like an adult would. Their healthy development depends on it. To connect with others on my level is crucial to maintaining these aspects of myself. I’ve also realized it’s integral to preserving my sanity, and leaves me refreshed, and more engaged as a parent. It doesn’t mean I don’t love my kids. I do. It doesn’t mean they aren’t great. They are. It doesn’t mean they don’t have potential. They do. They’re just not there yet. They’re not ready. One day. But until that day comes, I need to continue to seek out, build, and maintain those peer relationships because they don’t simply emerge like they might when working outside the home. If anything I’m saying about this resonates with you, I encourage you to do the same. These interactions will enrich your human experience, ward off loneliness, and make you your best parenting self.

Note: Header image courtesy of Pixabay.