Wandering round the supermarket aisles for the third time that week, trying to take as long as possible, I randomly chucked things I didn’t actually need into my basket. Because what I was desperately in need of wasn’t to be found on any of the shelves. What I needed was interaction with another person.

My brief chat with the checkout staff would be the highlight of my day, although, inexplicably, I would lie to them about my plans to see friends that day, as I was ashamed to admit, even to a stranger, that I didn’t have any.

This might sound like the story of one of the thousands of lonely elderly people in this country, the subject of many a media campaign, particularly as Christmas approaches. But I’m not an old woman: I’m a 38-year-old single mum with a five-year-old son, and for most of the last five years, a daily trip to the shop really did become my most meaningful social activity.

This time of year, though, I do all of my shopping online, as I just can’t bear all the wall-to-wall images of what Christmas is like for most people. It adds fuel to the fire of my loneliness.

Loneliness has been by far the hardest part of being a single mum, and the feelings are particularly acute at Christmas, an annual reminder that I am not living the life I expected. I’ve been a single mum since my son was just a few months old and, overnight, I changed from being part of a couple, with friends and a social life, to spending pretty much 24 hours a day on my own – aside from my baby, of course.

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Mental health charity Mind suggests comparing loneliness to hunger: “Just as your body uses hunger to tell your body you need food, loneliness is a way of your body telling you that you need more social contact.” Sounds so simple. But if you’re a single mum, then the analogy should be that there is loads of food in a huge pile in front of you, but you can’t get to it because you’re locked inside an empty room, so you just have to ignore the pangs. That might sound overly dramatic, but if your child is asleep upstairs and you’re the only adult around, you might as well be under house arrest, hunger or no hunger.

New mums often lose touch with their old friends and the situation for single mums is often made worse by the need to move house, sometimes to an area where they don’t have many social connections. In my case, my newly single status meant I moved back to my hometown – somewhere I hadn’t lived since I was 18 – to be near to my own mum.

Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Show all 8 1 /8 Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas Janela, 27, is 27 weeks pregnant and lives in temporary accommodation with her six year old son. She works 12-hour night shifts in a packing warehouse in Birmingham. Shelter Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas Suleman works in IT and has been living in emergency accommodation since June 2014 with his wife and two children. His youngest, only 2, was born while they were living in the hotel. Shelter Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas Sarah*, 40, was living in one room in a B&B with her husband and children, including her three-month old baby: “We sleep on the bed, they play on the bed, we eat on the bed. There’s just no place for anything.” For her daughter Shauna*, 13, the shame she felt at being homeless impacted on her friendships at school: “I don’t tell them because in the end you can’t trust a friend…they could spread rumours about you. I can’t explain anything to anyone. I go to school with a smile on my face.” * Names have been changed to protect the individual’s identity Shelter Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas Maria* and her two daughters (15 and 5) lived in a B&B for more than 9 months, before being moved out of area in October. Her oldest daughter is a wheelchair user and had no access to a bath as the bathroom was on a different floor. Maria had to bathe her in a tub in the bedroom. * Names have been changed to protect the individual’s identity Shelter Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas Nicola and her three children have spent the last 9 months in temporary accommodation. She said: “We're so squashed in this cold, damp place. I say place because neither myself nor the children call this 'home'. It's full of mould and the kids are constantly ill from the damp. I'm trying to do the best that I can with what I have. I'm training to be a teacher, attending counselling sessions and trying to be the best mum I can to my babies but living like this is getting too much.” Shelter Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas Nathan, 28, has been homeless for three months, and until recently was living in a Travelodge on the side of a motorway with his 16-month old son, where he only had access to a kettle: “There’s milk and stuff, but there’s no microwave. It’s pretty hard to make food. I’ve got to get the jars and stick it in the kettle, and then put the kettle on to warm it up, so that’s the best way to feed him.” Shelter Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas For Geraldine, 45, and her 13-year-old daughter Hannah*, living in an emergency B&B has taken a huge toll on their mental and emotional wellbeing: “My daughter has felt very suicidal. I took her to the GP. They’ve referred her to the psychologist. She’s constantly breaking down crying. I had to take her to A&E on two occasions because she’s having problems, she keeps getting palpitations. She shakes.” * Names have been changed to protect the individual’s identity Shelter Shelter - Homeless this Christmas Homeless this Christmas Mariam, her two teenage sons and 4 year old daughter Zara were living in a B&B for nearly three months, before being moved to temporary accommodation in November. Both places have been extremely cold and Mariam is concerned for Zara’s health, as she suffers from asthma and anaemia. Shelter

I know I’m luckier than many as I have an incredible relationship with my mum, and she helps so much both practically and emotionally. But she can’t play every role in my life. I can’t expect her to be my mum, co-parent, best friend and complete social circle.

Loneliness can be like a black hole that sucks you in and it is incredibly difficult to claw your way out. It completely changed how I saw myself. I started to feel I was somehow not deserving of the friendships that other, “normal” people had.

I got so used to being on my own all the time that when I did venture out and saw groups of friends, I would watch them like a wildlife documentary featuring some unknown species, trying to remember how it felt to be part of something like that.

Feeling lonely is tricky to explain to people who have never experienced it. They see that I take my son to, say, soft play, at the weekends, and don’t understand how I can be lonely when I am surrounded by other parents and children, somehow missing the point that I speak to nobody aside from my own child. Or they say things like, “Oh, I love my own company” or “I’d love more time to myself”, not realising that spending a little time alone, by choice, is a completely different thing.

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And of course I’m not alone – most of the time, I’m with my son. Meaning that my loneliness comes with a side order of enormous guilt. How can I be lucky enough to be the mum of such an amazing little boy and still feel sad, still feel like I need more? I don’t know how to answer this, as he is the centre of my world and it appalls me that I can’t be happy. But in the same way that my mum can’t be all things for me, neither can my son.

It is getting easier as George gets older. For a start, I can talk to him now, which means the weekends devoid of all speech are a distant memory.