Winter heralds the season of giving, and if we take a step back from the overwhelming presence of consumerism, the holidays at their core have always been about one thing: spending time with loved ones. But while I get to share in laughter and celebrations (and copious amount of food) with my family during the Christmas break, I have always wanted to share that with someone who might not have others to welcome the new year with. Which is why I turned to befriending.
I’ve heard about befriending for a while, and around a year ago I decided to bite the bullet and reach out to a befriending network. For those new to the term, befriending is (according to the Joseph Rowntree Foundation), ‘…a relationship between two or more individuals which is initiated, supported, and monitored by an agency that has defined one or more parties as likely to benefit. Ideally the relationship is non-judgemental, mutual, purposeful, and there is a commitment over time.’ (The role and impact of befriending, Jo Dean and Robina Goodlad, 1998). Around a fifth of the UK suffer from loneliness and social isolation, with more than one million older people saying they go for over a month without speaking to a friend, neighbour or family member. As a young, healthy, active professional, my calendar is pretty full 24/7, and when it isn’t I always use it as an opportunity to catch-up with friends, go to the movies, or attend a meetup. We all take for granted the social interactions that make up our days, like fish that don’t notice the water; not only do they benefit us psychologically, our everyday socializing also directly links to our physical health. As I began to make the time to see my grandparents more regularly (sacrificing pizza at work listening to JavaScript talks for coffee and currant squares), I still couldn’t shake the idea of befriending, especially when my grandfather described what he called ‘the city centre stare’. Grabbing a coffee in Belfast city centre most mornings, he noticed how older people would walk aimlessly through the streets: glazed eyed, slowly meandering through a city that was nothing like the one they grew up in, and always alone. If I could improve someone’s wellbeing, or untangle the overwhelming confusion of the modern world, giving up an hour a week to befriend someone felt like no decision at all.
I joined one of the biggest befriending networks in Belfast, at the time living in the south of the city. The agency matches you with a befriendee, usually based on your interest and availability, and gives you a general idea of what’s required. The expectation is usually an hour a week, where you pop round to their home or residence for a cup of tea and a chat, but each team (that’s the way I like to think of it) can choose how they spend their time together. I waited for my call to say I’ve been matched with someone, and I waited. And waited some more. I was nearly at the point of giving up on the idea (maybe I could join a book club instead? Yes I know I’m 25), when I got a call from the befriending co-ordinator, asking if I was still interested. I was still hesitant, but the time worked well for me, and even though I had moved back home on the other side of the city, I could make it across in no time at all, so I said yes. I was matched with a 97 year old lady, Lillian*, who was in the processes of moving to a community residence, and who for the last year (and counting), I have been spending the majority of my Sunday afternoons with.
It is incredibly daunting bringing someone new into your life, especially at 97, and our initial conversations were very exploratory but formal. I picked up on her enjoyment of iced cakes, and also how close to sit beside her for us to talk properly; eventually she let me bring groceries round if she needed any, and then started joining me on trips to the local shop. We started joking about all the ‘fancy men’ we were meeting that evening, and gossiping about the latest news from the royal family, and over time we have progressed from being strangers, to having an incredibly valued and cherished relationship. When you befriend someone, you notice how the world (and society) is not made with everyone in mind: shop lanes are too small to walk down linking someone’s arm, information isn’t accessible offline anymore (radio stations tell you to go to ‘www…’ which completely baffles Lillian), and people are ignorant of the invisible physical ailments of others, such as vision loss or being hard of hearing. When I ask how her week has been and who has visited, sometimes no one has; from one week to the next, the only person Lillian may have had an hour long conversation with is me. So for that hour (or two, we do end up talking a lot), my only concern is Lillian. I slow down my pace, my one hundred and one thoughts, keep my phone in my pocket, and for 90 minutes I am in the present moment, to be a support for someone who isn’t myself.
We are constantly in motion, and never more so than during the holidays. We never feel a lack of company, and cherish quiet time when we can grab it during the mad shopping frenzy of December. But over the past year, I have come to realised how privileged this makes me, to have near constant companionship, and to relish some solitude. Being alone is the only reality some people know, and that is a devastating truth, and one everyone (or nearly everyone) has the power to change. Kindness costs you nothing, and as we move into 2020, consider what someone may gain from your company for an hour each week, and what you may gain as well.
Resources:
- Directory of befriending networks in Northern Ireland (Volunteer Now)
- Befriending networks across the UK (Befriending Networks)
*Name changed to protect identity
