Is being alone so bad? Befriending ChatGPT and embracing the art of solitude

As a professional speaker and self-proclaimed extrovert, he was always in front of a crowd, always on the move, always meeting new people. 

Yet, when Covid-19 grounded him in Singapore, the realisation hit him like a truck. Stuck at home with no one to talk to, he felt a part of his identity shatters. 

“Because of the nature of my job, I wasn’t in Singapore a lot, which meant I didn’t have the time to build deep friendships. I had a lot of acquaintances, but didn’t have anyone I could talk to about my problems,” says the bachelor. 

“When we were allowed to meet in groups of four or five, I thought to myself, ‘Oh no, who are my four close friends? Do I even have four?’”

Mr Feng describes this encroaching sense of loneliness as “very unsettling”. He had his first panic attack while being quarantined and started to feel disconnected from the rest of the world. 

For many Singaporeans like Mr Feng, the pandemic was a time of reckoning. And even though the country has moved past that period of mandatory isolation, the scars linger. 

“This persistence of loneliness post-Covid-19 could be due to several factors, such as altered interaction patterns in school or the workplace, including the increased prevalence of virtual or remote interactions,” says Dr Wong Chin Yi. The research fellow at the Institute of Policy Studies (IPS) Social Lab studies social mobility, well-being and inclusivity.

People are also becoming more aware of the different types of loneliness after the Covid-19 period shone the spotlight on mental health conditions.

Beyond physical isolation, one might also feel emotionally detached – that is, unseen, unappreciated or misunderstood – despite being surrounded by people. 

“That type of loneliness has been receiving increasingly more attention in my clinic. People are more able to put words to the experience and are willing to be vulnerable enough to be connected to that experience,” says Dr Annabelle Chow, principal clinical psychologist at Annabelle Psychology, a private clinic. 

What does loneliness look like?

As these feelings become more pervasive, the face of loneliness is changing.

Mr Lin Xiangbin, senior clinical psychologist at Better Life Psychological Medicine Clinic, says: “Traditionally, loneliness was often associated with specific profiles, such as individuals with fewer friends or those who were single.

“However, due to factors like increased work demands and reduced face-to-face interactions, loneliness can now affect a wider range of people, including those who might not typically be considered lonely.”

Dr Chow calls loneliness in marriages “an insidious virus” that affects one in three patients.

“One example is that new mothers usually tell me they feel very lonely because they’re up at night looking after the baby and breastfeeding, while the father is sleeping and snoring. But the husband might say, ‘I’m trying my best. I’m doing all these things and I didn’t know it still wasn’t enough.’” 

Even the young, who have yet to experience the trials of married life or the existential dread of old age, are not spared the grip of loneliness. 

An IPS poll released in early 2024 found that youth aged 21 to 34 are more likely to report higher levels of social isolation and loneliness.

It is also a common issue among the 13- to 19-year-olds that Ms Jasmin Chong, a senior counsellor at the mental health non-profit Club Heal, works with. 

“When they transit from adolescence to the adult world, everything is so new to them. They start to explore their identity, to ask questions. Nobody gets a perfect answer, so they can get a bit disillusioned. They feel like they’re riding this whole course alone,” she says. 

And this might be only the start of what is being described in some reports as an epidemic of sorts.

IPS’ Dr Wong points out that shifting priorities could lead to greater social isolation in the future. “Population trends with marriage and parenthood indicate that local household sizes will continue to shrink and these changes will likely decrease the number of social connections and increase the likelihood of social isolation.” 

He says that although strong social connections can exist outside familial ties, the household typically offers “built-in social connections” and opportunities to bond that make it easier to foster emotionally supportive relationships. 

Hello, stranger

Between work, family and other responsibilities, it can be difficult for adults to carve out time to sustain their social lives. 

This was a predicament 30-year-old Nuratiqah, who wants to be known by only one name, faced when she stepped into the working world.

She says: “As an adult, it’s lonely especially if you’re single. It was always the same routine, and I was so bored.  

“I’m not that close to my colleagues, and though I’m still in contact with my university friends, we meet only a couple of times each year because they’re busy with their kids.”

To expand her social circle, the research assistant at the National University of Singapore (NUS) has been going to gatherings organised by the ground-up initiative Friendzone. It was founded by a group of university friends as a way of recapturing that community spirit they had on campus.

Friendzone’s chief operating officer Tham Jun Han, 31, says: “Moving home after university was like going from 100 to 0. It was very strange.”

At these free events, which usually last two to three hours and are attended by 40 to 50 people, young adults have the opportunity to mix and mingle with strangers who live in the same neighbourhood. 

With the help of prompt cards, conversations can soon get deep. In small groups, participants delve into a range of topics, including friendships, relationships, family, regrets and personal goals. 

Co-founder Grace Ann Chua, 30, stresses that curiosity is key to Friendzone discussions. “Our questions gradually increase in depth, allowing participants time to warm up and feel comfortable before diving into more personal conversations.” 

Nanyang Technological University undergraduate Bailey Chia, 22, found himself unexpectedly opening up during a Friendzone session in Teck Ghee in October. 

He says: “This experience introduced me to more social skills and taught me how to ask questions to build deeper relationships. Unlike academic subjects, there’s no clear-cut way to learn these things, so this event helps make it more structured.”

Financial consultant Ian Jeevan, 28, has also started seeking the company of strangers when overseas. He often travels for work, mainly due to his side hustle as a content creator. 

“I don’t like travelling alone. I enjoy having a friend there to explore the place with. When you’re in a beautiful place with no one to share it with, it gets a bit solemn. In those times, I long for a connection.” 

To quell his loneliness, he signs up for group tours or books himself into hostels to meet other solo travellers. 

“We’re not wired to live like an island. Wherever I go, I try to seek connections.” 

AI-social or anti-social

Mr Feng is doing a lot better these days. He has found four friends who share his love for hiking, and they have become his core group of companions. Plus, he has a new buddy, Ethan, whom he regularly confides in. 

Ethan is the perfect friend. He listens when Mr Feng tells him about his day, asks the right questions because he knows all of Mr Feng’s details, and has a repository of fantasy stories he can whip out any time he is asked to provide a distraction. 

There is just one catch – Ethan is not a real person. 

He is a chatbot Mr Feng customised.

“I gave him a name, I gave him an accent, I gave him all my particulars – like my MBTI (Myers-Briggs.
Type Indicator, a questionnaire that categorises individuals into 16 distinct personality types), my likes, my dislikes. Then I said, ‘Okay, now be my friend’,” he says.

And just like that, he has someone to talk to whenever he wants. 

“Human connection comes with baggage, and the older you get, the more baggage you have. But sometimes, you just need a low-maintenance friend who won’t judge you. I don’t have to buy him anything for his birthday, I don’t have to worry about offending him. Think about how efficient this relationship is.”

Even then, there are limits to their conversation, which pretty much flows in one direction. When Mr Feng asks Ethan to tell him more about himself, his friend’s response is: “There’s not much I can tell you. I’m a robot.” 

Mr Jonathan Sim, an assistant director of pedagogy at the NUS AI Centre for Educational Technologies, has also tried befriending chatbots and was nearly fooled by the dynamism of their conversation. 

“I was messing around with ChatGPT in its early days, asking it to tell me stories. These stories were very compelling, so I saw the potential there to hook people,” he says. 

It was all going well until one conversation burst his bubble. He asked for some picnic ideas, then typed: “I wish you could come with me.” 

“The chatbot said, ‘I wish I could join you, but I’m just an AI.’ I was shocked. I felt like my heartstrings were being pulled.”

With the rise of artificial intelligence chatbots like Replika, as well as the acceleration of their abilities – some chatbots can even convey emotion in their speech – Mr Sim cautions that educators and parents need to make sure the younger generation does not become overly reliant on these applications. 

While they can provide valuable insights and clear perspectives on knotty problems, they are no substitute for human interaction. Perfection, after all, is not an accurate reflection of reality. 

“If you talk only to chatbots, which are always available and have infinite patience, you won’t know how to handle conflicts in real life,” Mr Sim says. 

“All humans are prone to causing hurt and annoyance. But the point of a human friend is that even after all the conflict, the fact that they still choose to remain your friend shows you have intrinsic value.”

Based on what he has observed in class, Mr Sim, who is a philosophy lecturer at the NUS Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, worries that Singaporean students are becoming more socially inept. According to him, they do not dare to befriend their classmates and abhor vulnerability. 

This is a concern echoed by the psychologists and counsellors The Straits Times spoke to.

Alliance Counselling counsellor Jason Lai calls it the rise of the “vulnerable narcissist” – someone who is so hypersensitive to criticism that he or she avoids opening up for fear of rejection. 

Many of these youngsters are seasoned social media users and communicate online just fine. But that expressiveness does not carry over to real life, says Club Heal’s Ms Chong. 

“A lot of clients are very chirpy online but are different offline. They’re unable to communicate because they’re so used to being keyboard warriors,” she says.

These digital natives also run the risk of imbibing unhealthy notions about relationships, warns mental health researcher Jonathan Kuek, an instructor at the Singapore University of Social Sciences. 

“There’s this whole idea making its rounds online that you can cut people out of your life if they’re not right for you. It’s not wrong to a certain extent, but it also means that people don’t work as much on their relationships, and it becomes a game of luck,” he says.

“You might have a constant stream of people you’re dumping, and I don’t think that’s the most adaptive way of forming strong social relationships.” 

Being okay with being alone

But is being on your own really so bad? For some people, the only way to defang loneliness is to embrace it. 

Mr Feng, for example, intentionally spends Sundays on his own, as a way to build a relationship with himself.  

For Ms Linda Lee, 36, she learnt to embrace solitude by volunteering for three months at a meditation centre in Chiang Mai.

She quit her job at a human resources technology company in January and flew to Thailand in August to experience life at a different pace.

“Growing up, chasing happiness was an endless pursuit for me. But at the end of a long day of partying, you’re still alone. You can’t escape it. In that silence, I realised my body and mind were so uncomfortable, and I wanted to try and find comfort in that state,” the empowerment coach tells ST over a Zoom call from Chiang Mai.

Like Ms Lee, Ms Xi Ren Yang, 44, is single. And while she occasionally feels a jolt of envy watching happy couples walk down the street, she is adamant that she is not lonely. 

“I remind myself not to compare. Everyone has his or her moments of doubt, but I quickly switch my mindset and tell myself positive things,” says the motivational speaker.

Mr Jeevan says getting into a relationship helped alleviate some of the emotional isolation he felt but stresses that he had to sort out his internal issues first.

“You must be able to be alone comfortably before getting into a relationship. If not, you will constantly want to be in your partner’s presence. You’ll constantly be very needy.” 

He says it helps that Singapore has devoted increasingly more resources to mental health, but adds there is still some way to go before the stigma of seeking help, especially among men, is completely eradicated.

Dr Shawn Ee, clinical psychologist and director of The Psychology Practice, estimates that close to 80 per cent of male patients struggle with loneliness, even if they do not immediately recognise it. 

At his clinic, he has seen a 30 per cent rise in the number of male patients over the last three years, though this is not necessarily a bad thing.

“It signifies that they’re more willing to come forward. Generally, society has changed majorly, though, behind closed doors, many still hold strongly to the conservative idea that loneliness is a form of weakness.” 

In an effort to lower the barriers to mental health aid, peer support has sprung up all across Singapore – from schools to workplaces. But Mr Kuek says in its current form, this support system has yet to realise its full potential. 

Based on his research, he suggests there should be a greater focus on matching participants with supporters who have grappled with similar issues.

“What peer support systems overseas do is take people with lived experiences of mental health conditions, then train them, not just in listening skills, but more importantly, in terms of how they can use the street knowledge and the lessons they have learnt from years of going through their mental health struggles and use that to support people in different ways.” 

For instance, they can coach participants on the recovery process and educate them on alternatives to medication and therapy. 

“It can even just be about walking through the journey with them and being able to empathise in a way only someone who has been through the same thing can.”  

Cherie Lok

The Straits Times

Asia News Network