Loneliness? An Unlikely Lifeline

2017

Professor D. reviewed the exam content for the upcoming final, and it read like a CVS receipt.

Dammit. I’m not ready, not even close. I don’t understand it,and have nothing left. What am I going to do?

The ring of black closed in; my body heated like water in a kettle, and sounds began to fade to the background. A classmate looked me in the face, smiled, and said something. I was desperate for space. I nodded a pleasantry in return, gathered my items, and exited the side door - a shorter distance to the bathroom - while most students exited via the back doors.

Finding a niche, I doubled over, struggling for breath, as I willed the black to “back off.” I hid myself from view as best I could (a skill learned in law school) for privacy and to regain composure. It’s one of those tactics everyone learns the hard way, but nobody tells you during the orientation tour.

I waited until the flock of classmates had dissipated. My plan was, like a burglar, to cover a lot of ground in a short time through swift, purposeful movements. Like threading a needle, I’d whip around the central staircase, stride diagonally across the atrium to the student entrance, then beeline for the safety of the parking lot while breathing in the fresh, cold, night air.

Composed, yet restraining what was sure to be a torrent of tears, I rounded the corner and ran into a group of stragglers. They smiled and chatted; though I attempted both, alarms blared internally as I monitored my vitals. I hesitated, slowing my pace to match theirs, yet remained at the back of the group.

I wish I was alone.

They moseyed, they laughed, and I tried to keep it together. Every fiber of my being shook with glass-like fragility as we descended the stairs. I feared another minute in the building and I’d shatter into a million tiny pieces.

One more flight.

Chit chat is all I could hear as my footing faltered and lightheadedness blossomed. I saw the group ahead of me, yet focused all energy towards my hand on the banister. Only a few more steps to the ground floor.

“Liv, are you okay?”

The books I held slid forward as I crumpled towards the ground like burned paper turning to ash. And just before I fell flat, a classmate caught me. The group of ladies, like hens, began pouring words over me to encourage rest. I nestled into the railing and noted how cold the stone step felt against my panicked body.

I don’t remember the details following my body’s protest to protracted stress, yet eventually, I drove home that night. The classmate who, quite literally, offered a helping hand in my time of need will not be forgotten. Even now I see the concern in her dark eyes. I picture the glass staircase of the law school and wonder how the scene played out to an onlooker. And I recall the dread in my chest realizing I may fail the first academic course of my life - at the age of 37.

There’s got to be a better way to learn the law; this is unsustainable.

2018

“What? Really? Why?”

The statistic staring at me from the magazine article was enough to turn the gears of cerebral machinations.

Why did lawyers rank the loneliest of American workers?

That’s not a good sign; I’m in law school and graduate next spring.

I knew it to be true, however, but not how I know it to be true now.

I knew it to be true because I, a fourth year part-time evening law student, felt the isolation inherent in striving towards a degree designed to first dismantle and then rewire your thinking.

I knew it to be true because I lived an endless state of exhaustion working full time during the day, attending night classes, then driving home in the dark to a safe, yet solitary space.

I knew it to be true, because who else but those who sat next to me night-after-night knew what it felt like dreading an exam with a dismal pass rate?

And I knew it to be true because I could sense the strain seeping from every pore of my colleagues as evidenced by weight gain, circles darkening their bloodshot eyes, and recurring ailments from weakened immune systems and sleep deprivation.

Hmmm…

I have to write a thesis this year, and I do not want to examine case law. What about law and health? I’m a health teacher with years of education and experience I could rely upon. Wellness interests me more than writing about case law. I could combine my background in exercise science with law, and dive into reasons underlying lawyers rating the loneliest of American workers. And I could make it worth the effort by conducting research through the university. And maybe it will help. A win-win.

Let’s do it.

Olivia (Liv) Ash is an Indiana-licensed attorney and teacher, and founder of Liv Balanced, LLC. She’s a published author and award-winning researcher on loneliness. Liv speaks about integrating well-being practices to manage mental health. She’s been invited to present at Stanford Law School, and conducted seminars for: the American Bar Association; the International Society for Research on Emotion; Indiana University; The Institute for Well-Being in Law; and the Wellness Council of Indiana. Liv is a full time benefits compliance attorney and teaches undergraduate courses in well-being education as Adjunct Faculty at Indiana University - Indianapolis. Liv’s personal journey in managing chronic pain and mitigating loneliness has brought humility and appreciation for what it means to live human. Please connect with Liv on her website: http://www.livbalanced.net/

Liv Ash