Photo by LifeHouseDesign.

WAHFs (Work-at-Home Freelancers) have it tough. Sure, there’s freedom of work schedule, not having to sit in traffic or otherwise commute, eating a home-cooked meal and being able to watch soap operas or Oprah everyday. But for some of us it gets darn lonely working at home all day, every day. Combine the state of the economy, the Holiday season, or the start of the winter blues and the feeling of loneliness right now can be magnified manyfold. If you’re single, it’s even worse because working at home means it’s that much harder to meet people, even for casual conversation, weekly drinks or whatever. Here are some tips for weathering that “lonely freelancer” feeling that sometimes visits.

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Photo by frischmilch.

Most of us have heard the cliché about the single freelancer who works around the clock from their home, devoid of any social life and consequently a sense of real purpose and meaning. The nature of freelancing lends itself to late nights and long hours, and we tend to shut out the world around us. We focus all of our energy on clients and deadlines, but we lose focus on one of the essential pieces in the pie of life: social interaction.

I was that cliché freelancer. All I was concerned with was becoming successful in my freelance career. My time and energy was completely consumed by my projects. When I finished one project, my focus quickly moved on to the next. I felt empty. I had everything I could have asked for from a freelance career, but in the process I had left my social life in the dust. It came to a point that I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a meaningful conversation with someone who wasn’t paying me!

I wanted to keep my success, but I knew changes had to be made to live a more social lifestyle. One night I sat down in my office and came up with 4 simple guidelines that would improve my social life, while also maintaining my freelance success.

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Photo by silvia di natale'S.

Folding a regular Internet broadcast into my media empire—which, at the moment, consists of a laptop and two pens which actually work—has increased my visibility as a freelancer. Everything that comes with being a freelance writer is there: the flexibility, the endless reach to bump up against another human soul through art, the second-glass-of-wine buzz of speaking with admired guests. And you know who else came over to play? Rejection and self-consciousness. Hello, old friends.

The show that was rushed into production (after one of the entrants in the Kentucky Derby was euthanized right on the track) was fielding its first guest. Even after such an auspicious beginning, I was terrified, for this was Talking To People, which is horrifying on any level and even worse while still finding my footing as a radio hostess. It would be like recording my very worst cocktail party small talk, then broadcasting it over the World Wide Web.

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Photo by Arwen Abendstern.

After placing the last plate in the dishwasher yesterday, I poured in the detergent, set the dial, and burst in to tears. It was not the chemicals or the hormones. Okay, probably a little bit of the hormones. Okay, probably mostly the hormones. But it was also because it’s been almost a full year since I made the freelance switch, and I was ready to admit to the kitchen sink that I am, in fact, lonely.

Look, I don’t get lonely. I clutch jealously at control of my life and my time like the One Ring. Days and days will go by and I’ll happily not leave my office except to go to Mass, at which point I’ll pile my purse and jacket in the pew next to me and daaaaare you with my eyes to sit on the other side. And if you do plop yourself there, you keep your sticky paw to yourself. I will genially wish you peace from my five-foot bubble of personal space, my brother. And also with you.

Nonetheless, yesterday I realized that I cannot remember the last time I have been shopping with another woman, and surfaced in tears because of it.

“But,” said my husband as I wept on him over this, “you don’t like to shop. We couldn’t afford to shop even if you did.”

“I knoooooow.” I covered my face with my arm.

“Aren’t I your friend?”

“You don’t understand about shoes.” Continue Reading