We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Phil McAuliffe a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Phil , thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Can you share an anecdote or story from your schooling/training that you feel illustrates what the overall experience was like?

I’m sure that there were times when I did feel that I belonged when I was growing up, but they feel hard to remember looking back from this distance.

Growing up feels like I was in a near-constant state of trying to fit in, to be accepted and to feel that I belong.

I grew up in a tiny country town in regional New South Wales.

My home town is a farming community – and there are lots of sheep, wheat, kangaroos and beautiful sky.

Most of the kids in my primary school of 90 kids were the children of farmers. They seemed to all prefer being outside, whereas I preferred being inside.

While they loved playing outside at recess and lunchtime, I loved class time. I loved learning. I loved reading. I was a voracious reader at primary school. I would read books and pore over atlases and encyclopaedias, eagerly absorbing the words about the world beyond my immediate surrounds.

I did go outside from time to time. I played tennis and cricket in summer. I hated winter; the boys had to play Australian Rules football in the mud and cold. I hated playing football and thought that there was something wrong with me because all the other boys and men in my life – including my father and brother – were obsessed with the game. I had to play it because I was a boy, and boys played football. That was the rule.

This cultural sporting obsession continued all the way through my secondary schooling, but with the obsession level dialled up to 17. I attended a Catholic boarding school just outside of Melbourne 3 hours’ drive away from my hometown. The school’s nickname was ‘The Football Factory’ for the number of elite Australian Rules footballers it produced.

I spent six years of my secondary schooling hustling to fit in, trying so hard to care about the same stuff that the 30 other kids I lived with cared about: football, girls and – later – booze.

I’d look around and think that the other kids seemed to have worked out the secret to being included and being popular. I mean, I had friends, but I seemed to be one of those friends who if there was a party with a limit of 20 guests, I was the 21st on the list.

Even if I did get invited to a party, I’d go and perversely feel well out of place and that I didn’t belong there, either.

During my secondary schooling, around the age of 14, I realised that I felt funny around some of the other boys. But a Catholic boarding school in regional Victoria in the early 1990s was not a safe space to see where I’d fit in any kind of rainbow community. It was far safer to shove those feelings down and pretend to like girls, too.

I thought that this is how life was always going to be. I believed that I was always going to feel on the outer. I had some very dark times at school, and I marvel at how younger me got through those times.

At university, I was surrounded by people who had also been the smart kids at school. There were others who loved learning and using words and language as much as I did.

But just as I thought that I’d found my place, I began to feel like a fraud. The people around me were so smart, so accomplished and so destined to achieve great things that I felt like my presence was some kind of mistake. I went from being too smart at school to not feeling smart enough at university.

I learned the power of achievement to help me feel that I belonged. I hustled and I hustled hard. I studied like a demon, but worked just as hard to make it look effortless. I won awards, prizes and accolades for my studies, my swimming (oh yeah, turns out that while I hated football, I loved swimming and was pretty good at it) and for my community service. I cultivated the nice-guy image: always quick with a joke and words of encouragement. I began working out at the gym and I felt great when someone noticed. The recognition and respect for the effort felt good.

I felt like I cracked the code. I needed to be smart, funny, buff, athletic and simply wonderful to be around. Through recognition I felt that I belonged, until the praise wore off and I needed to do more.

Phil , before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

My initiative, The Loneliness Guy, de-stigmatises loneliness and helps gay men find authentic connection.

Having experienced loneliness myself, I understand how painful it can be to feel disconnected from others, even when it looks like you have it all together. I sought help and support and realised that the support provided did not often feel relevant to me and a majority of it was aimed at the elderly. My personal journey has inspired me to create kind and honest conversations that can help others facing similar struggles.

I believe that de-stigmatising loneliness is a critical step in helping people feel less alone. Too often, shame and trauma can lead to feelings of isolation and despair, particularly in the LGBTIQA+ community where many have experienced discrimination or marginalisation. I aim to provide a safe space for gay men to acknowledge their pain and work towards healing and connection.

Through my blog, podcast, speaking engagements and media appearances (on national media in Australia), I have shared my own experiences and insights with hundreds of thousands of people. By starting and leading conversations about loneliness, connection, and belonging, I’m just beginning to make a difference in the lives of others.

I am well-aware that loneliness is a complex issue, and one that often doesn’t require a clinical diagnosis. Sometimes, all someone experiencing loneliness needs is someone to listen to them and spend time with them. Unfortunately, our society often lacks the language and understanding to talk openly about loneliness. This can lead to people feeling ashamed or embarrassed about their struggles and afraid to seek help.

I’m changing this by developing innovative tools and strategies for gay men to find the connection they need, whenever they need it. I believe that this approach can reduce the burden on the mental health sector and empower people to take control of their own well-being. By providing helpful and relatable information and support, I hope to make it easier for gay men to find the help they need and feel less alone.

I am passionate about becoming a thought leader on gay loneliness and loneliness in general, so that people know they are not alone in their experiences. My work is ongoing, and I am constantly looking for ways to refine and improve my support services and how they’re delivered.

In conclusion, my initiative aims to address the gap in how we talk about and respond to loneliness, particularly in the LGBTIQA+ community. Using my compassionate and relatable approach, I’m creating a more understanding and supportive environment for those who are struggling with loneliness. So far, I have shared my story with hundreds of thousands of people, developed innovative tools and strategies, and empowered gay men to take control of their own well-being.

There’s a lot to do, but I’m here to play my part.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

Resilience is a constant part of my journey. I’ve been a diplomat twice (with postings in Vietnam and South Korea) and was married to a diplomat and accompanied her on her postings in Venezuela and New Zealand.

As a diplomat, it feels like its a requirement to make the difficult look effortless. While much of the work isn’t exciting, there are times when I’ve been required to support people on their most difficult days or be always prepared to support people on their most difficult days. My wife and I were separated for three months due to a national strike in Venezuela in 2002/2003 and I was forced to evacuate from Caracas to Australia two days before Christmas.

I have countless examples of being able to pull off the impossible with a smile on my face and whistle on my lips. I thought that my ability to keep delivering great results under impossible demands made me resilient. I was proud that I could do that.

But then I learned that the ability to do ever more work was not resilience. I was allowing my myself to carry impossible burdens due to lack of time, budget and staff.

Learning to say no to those impossible demands and prioritise time for me was how I demonstrate my resilience, because I now know that true resilience – psychological resilience – is the ability to flex and then return to form. Constant flexing, through ALWAYS being at work or thinking about work – simply breaks me. The return to form is what makes me resilient.

Sitting with my loneliness taught me that I needed to constantly come back to who I am.

Do you think you’d choose a different profession or specialty if you were starting now?

It’s funny, being The Loneliness Guy and a global loneliness thought-leader isn’t something that I grew up wanting to do.

If life had worked out the way I’d imagined and planned, I’d be a senior bureaucrat somewhere in the Australian Public Service.

I feel like this work chose me. It feels that my skills, work experience and life experience have all aligned to serve people in this way.

The work is TOUGH sometimes. Loneliness is not a fun topic to work on and it’s sometimes very lonely working on it. However, I don’t feel that I could do anything else right now as I’d feel out of alignment, and alignment is everything.

Besides, I now have a wonderful life partner in Jeff, largely because I accepted my loneliness and committed to being me in the world. Jeff and the team of wonderful people I’ve built at The Loneliness Guy are united in purpose and vision to de-stigmatise loneliness globally. To be connected to people and to my purpose is a wonderful feeling that stemmed from accepting and learning from some horrid thoughts and feelings.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.thelonelinessguy.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the_loneliness_guy/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheLonelinessGuy
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/phil-mcauliffe
• Twitter: @_loneliness_guy
• Youtube: @thelonelinessguy

Image Credits
smb creative