“I hid in my bed, I didn’t go outside at all…”
“… I wouldn’t leave my bed for even half a step.”
“To be honest, I felt like I had given up.”
By Jessie Yeung, Sophie Jeong, Carlotta Dotto, Woojin Lee, Kenneth Uzquiano and Saki Toi
Published May 25, 2024
(CNN) — Charlie was 15 when his life inexplicably shrank to fit within the frame of his lower bunk bed in his family’s cramped Hong Kong apartment.
“I felt very depressed, confused, like I didn’t know what I wanted,” said Charlie, who’s now 19 and still learning how to navigate the world outside.
Charlie is among millions of hikikomori, a Japanese term for people who cut themselves off from society, sometimes for months or years – often Gen Z and Millennials in the prime of their youth.
The phenomenon first emerged in Asia, and is particularly well-documented in Japan – but similar stories are surfacing in other parts of the world including the United States, Spain and France.
Researchers at Yale University have suggested that the rise of the internet and decline of face-to-face interaction may be driving the global spread of hikikomori. Others say the Covid-19 pandemic may have created even more recluses, as most of the world retreated indoors to stop the spread of the virus.
Across much of Asia, governments and organizations are now working to help hikikomori re-enter society – a task that’s growing more urgent as many nations grapple with aging populations, a shrinking workforce, falling birth rates and disenchanted youth.
It’s not clear how many hikikomori there are worldwide, but more than 1.5 million are estimated to live in Hong Kong, Japan and South Korea. Here are some of their stories.
HONG KONG
Charlie’s withdrawal began in his early teens, after he argued with a teacher and overheard classmates criticizing him at school.
“I am sensitive to people’s words; I really care about what others say about me and how they see me.”
CNN is identifying Charlie by his first name for privacy reasons.
At first, Charlie said he tried to attend school once or twice a week – but by 2019, he had closed himself off entirely in his bedroom. He would stay there for four months.
He said he didn’t respond to friends’ messages or confide in anyone, feeling like nobody would understand anyway. His parents occasionally urged him to go outside or attend school; mostly, they left him alone.
But even then, there was little space to hide.
Charlie, his parents and grandmother shared a small studio apartment.
Charlie shared a bunk bed with his grandma, and spent his days burrowed under the covers.
He even took his meals in bed, balancing bowls on a tray. He only got up to use the bathroom and take his dishes to the kitchen.
Like many hikikomori, he would sleep all day and wake at dusk. Then at night, when his family went to bed, he spent hours scrolling on his phone.
Source: Charlie
Childhood friends
Charlie’s mom got him these stuffed animals, a koala and a pig, 10 years ago.
Source: Charlie
Self-help book
Charlie said a book titled “Workplace Survival Manual for Social Animals,” about navigating workplace challenges and social situations, helped him.
Source: Charlie
A small shared space
Charlie’s ‘room’ in his family’s studio apartment. He slept on the bottom of the bunk bed, with his grandmother on the top bunk.
Charlie said there wasn’t just one thing that sent him spiraling into isolation.
School played a part – he felt under pressure to perform in Hong Kong’s demanding education system.
Teachers would “berate and humiliate ‘bad’ students, even saying (things like) if you misbehave this way, you’re going to end up as a beggar,” he said. “At the time, I really believed what they said.”
LISTEN TO CHARLIE
“I just hid in my bed, I didn’t go outside at all, I wouldn’t leave my bed for even half a step.”
Paul Wong, an associate professor at Hong Kong University, estimates up to 50,000 hikikomori live in Hong Kong – mostly middle and high schoolers, though pre-teens have begun showing symptoms too.
Many Hong Kong parents are so focused on academic performance that their children don’t do “anything besides studying,” he said.
When students begin to withdraw, parents may raise their voices and use tactics like guilt tripping or other forms of punishment – which only pushes them further away, he added.
During the three years Hong Kong resident Ah Mun spent in his bedroom, his parents and siblings didn’t know what to do, he said. At one point they cut off the internet, hoping he might go outside, but it didn’t work.
Ah Mun, 30, now works at the social services center of the church that helped his recovery, which offers creative workshops and therapy cats. Source: Jessie Yeung
“After a while you start to feel that going outside is quite scary, and the longer the time goes, the harder it feels to go out,” said Ah Mun, who CNN is identifying by his nickname for privacy reasons.
“By the end, I wanted to go outside, but I didn’t dare … I didn’t have the courage.”
The answer came when his sister reached out to the social services division of a church that helps isolated youth, where he now works – the same one that eventually helped Charlie.
Initially, Ah Mun was too afraid to meet the social workers in person; they visited his home many times over several months before he ventured out of his room. His full recovery took more than a year.
“The first time I stepped back outside, it felt very novel … everywhere looked different.”
That was six years ago. Now, Ah Mun helps other hikikomori escape self-imposed isolation. Though their circumstances may differ, “I think I can understand their feelings,” he said.
JAPAN
When Toyoaki Yamakawa’s parents fell sick, he moved from Tokyo to his hometown Fukuoka to manage their care. As their only child, he felt a “big burden” to look after them, which also meant managing their financial affairs, he said.
“Once I started living closer to my parents, I had a lot of problems… which became quite difficult for me to deal with on my own.”
Over time, he withdrew and remained in his home for five years starting from age 35.
At the beginning, “I locked myself in the bedroom,” Yamakawa said. “I did not have energy to do anything, so I was mostly sleeping all day.”
His wife asked him to prepare meals and take out the trash – activities that allowed him to have “a role in the house,” he said.
“Thanks to this … I believe I did not become a person who can’t or won’t do anything.”
But it was gaming that finally gave him the courage to come out of isolation. Fellow players praised his abilities, boosting his self-esteem and piquing an interest in live streaming.
He watched YouTube videos that inspired new hobbies. He started growing plants on his balcony and experimenting in the kitchen.
“When I became interested in various things, I naturally went outside and my energy recovered,” he said.
Source: Toyoaki Yamakawa
Experimenting with food
Yamakawa enjoyed making all types of food, from dumplings and sashimi platters to homemade pizza dough.
<img src="https://edition.cnn.com/interactive/2024/05/world/hikikomori-asia-personal-stories-wellness/media/images/s_EAD8F34FE682DA5C289645CAD5AAB5313A90B91A7B91C8E07F0923695CA30BBD_1715293277069_tokyo-image-01.jpg" alt="Yamakawa holding a sheet of paper about tiramisu, the Italian dessert. Cooking was an important hobby that aided his recovery. Source: Toyoaki Yamakawa
Source: Toyoaki Yamakawa
A green thumb
His small outdoor garden boasted flowers, herbs, fruit and even vegetables like radishes.
Yamakawa’s wife, previously a homemaker, got a job to support them during his five-year hikikomori period. The hardest part was feeling powerless against Yamakawa’s depression, she told CNN, asking not to be named.
“I knew his original personality, which was cheerful, fast-paced, and enthusiastic about his work, so I didn’t know how to deal with the change in him,” she said. “I was worried that he might really disappear.”
She had struggled with her health since her 20s – at times so sick she could only lie in bed, unable to job hunt after college, she said. Her parents’ unconditional support and care at the time, and her eventual recovery, shaped her response to Yamakawa’s withdrawal.
“I think I had a stronger conviction than others that even if it takes time, better times will come for my husband,” she said.
Like Yamakawa, many adult hikikomori in Japan withdraw after losing their job or struggling to provide for their families, according to Teppei Sekimizu, associate professor of sociology at Meiji Gakuin University. The trend reflects broader economic problems like Japan’s rising cost of living and stagnant wages.
A recent government survey found that Japan has nearly 1.5 million hikikomori – and unlike Hong Kong’s teenage hikikomori, Japan’s recluses span a much broader age range, said Sekimizu. Some elderly parents in their 80s are reportedly having to support hikikomori children in their 50s, he said.
Takahiro A. Kato, an associate professor at Kyushu University, said Japanese men are particularly at risk because of the “pressure on boys to go out and work hard.”
“Those who fail become ashamed and think that they are not good enough.”
Yamakawa said aspects of Japanese culture contributed to his isolation, such as the belief that one should “do things yourself” and not bother others, and that disgracing your family is the ultimate shame.
Yamakawa holding a sheet of paper about tiramisu, the Italian dessert. Cooking was an important hobby that aided his recovery. Source: Toyoaki Yamakawa
“I probably felt the pressure that since I am the (only) son, I am the one who should take care of my parents on my own, without getting help from others,” he said.
How a person’s family responds to their withdrawal is critical, said Sekimizu. If family members offer emotional support, the hikikomori might be able to rejoin society more easily.
But if their family “blames the person for staying at home,” the hikikomori is likely to cut off their relationships, feeling like they are “forced to seek a place … where they can be alone,” he said.
Yamakawa said he lost some friendships during that period, and his own parents accused him of being lazy and “mentally weak.”
“I knew that there was no way this life could go on, because I wasn’t working and I had financial problems, but I couldn’t bring myself to work,” he said. “I felt anxious and bitter that I couldn’t do anything about it.”
One thing that helped his recovery were “goal sheets” of what he wanted to achieve each week, month and year, giving his days structure and purpose.
At one point he went to the store and chatted with salespeople, which finally “made me feel like a normal person again,” he said.
Now 44, Yamakawa has started his own organization to help other hikikomori – and says as difficult as those years were, especially for his family, it changed him for the better.
“For me, becoming hikikomori was a chance to reset my personality, my way of working, and many other things. If I hadn’t done that, I would have hung on to the (status quo) while accumulating stress,” he said.
“I am now working freelance, and I think I have found a new way of life that suits me, so I am glad I withdrew from society.”
SOUTH KOREA
Some hikikomori withdraw over and over. Sung O-hyun, a 32-year-old South Korean, has secluded himself about five separate times for different reasons – totaling about two to three years in isolation.
His first social withdrawal came in middle school, when he didn’t leave his house for a month during a school break. At 27, he suffered a setback at work and again retreated to a safe place.
“I heard negative feedback a lot, things like I’m not good at work, I make mistakes,” he said. “I was disappointed in myself a lot, became very depressed and lost confidence to work again, so I just locked myself in my room.”
At the time, Sung was living with his family. He felt embarrassed to see them, so he only left his room to eat or use the bathroom when they were out of the house or sleeping.
“I think I slept a lot because I could forget about painful things.”
Source: Sung O-hyun
Sung O-hyun, pictured in 2020, stayed in communal “sharehouses” in both South Korea and Japan. Source: Sung O-hyun
Days and nights started blurring together.
“When I heard sounds of my parents going to work and people waking up, I felt a sense of shame,” he said.
He said he stopped talking to his family, which caused misunderstandings between them.
“Since I was alone at home, I often thought things like, ‘Everyone else seems to be doing well. Why am I like this?’ It seemed like I was the only one having a hard time like this,” he said.
He looked up hikikomori on the internet and came across Japanese company K2 International, which supports young people who refuse to go to school, withdraw from society or have developmental issues.
They have a communal living program, or “sharehouse,” in countries like Japan and South Korea – which he joined in 2019.
At the sharehouse, home to up to nine residents, life is designed to bring recluses together, encourage social interaction and offer routine.
Every morning, residents gather for a meeting to talk about their mood and share their feelings.
They also eat lunch together every weekday, with residents taking turns to cook.
“We just do a lot of things together, like watching movies together, eating food together, talking together, sharing difficulties with each other,” said Sung’s former housemate and friend, An Yoon-seung.
After prior stays, Sung returned to the sharehouse again in 2023 after going through another seclusion. “I think we keep doing (things) together so that (we) don’t feel very isolated,” he said.
Source: Not Scary Company
A common space
The sharehouse has shared spaces such as living rooms and attics where residents can spend time together, enjoy entertainment and relax.
Source: Not Scary Company
Sharing meals
Residents cook for each other and eat together every weekday – one of the things that encourage routine, daytime activity and social interaction.
The sharehouse in South Korea is now run by Not Scary Company, led by a former recluse.
Statistics suggest its residents are not alone in their struggle with isolation. In 2022, 2.4% of Koreans aged 19 to 34 were reclusive, according to a survey by the Korea Institute for Health and Social Affairs. That makes up about 244,000 people across the country.
Last year, the government passed an amendment making some reclusive youth eligible for financial support, including up to 650,000 won ($475) per month for living expenses, to help them “re-enter society.”
Many Millennials and members of Gen Z have “perfectionistic concerns,” said Hur Ji-won, an associate professor of psychology at Korea University.
People with “perfectionistic concerns” are typically sensitive to criticism, are overly self-critical and fear failure.
When people with those traits try new things and fail to achieve results that meet their standards, “they get very discouraged and anxious,” Hur said.
Smaller families are also contributing to the problem, said Yoon Chul-kyung, executive director of G’L Out of School Youth Research Institute.
“In the past, because we had large families and many siblings, we were able to learn a lot about how to relate,” Yoon said. “As the living environment has changed, there are fewer experiences of forming communal relationships than in the past.”
An, the 22-year-old sharehouse resident, had long struggled with communicating with others – to the point that it restricted almost all his outside activities, like going to the hair salon or eating at restaurants alone.
He began his six-month seclusion right before he was due to enter college in 2020.
“I really didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to meet people I didn’t know.”
An mostly stayed at home in his room, spending time on his phone and computer, reading novels and occasionally taking classes online. These activities were the only way he could “endure … staying idle,” he said.
It was An’s sister who recommended the sharehouse, where he began living in 2020 during the pandemic. “There were many people I can honestly share my story with and who have similar concerns, so it was actually a bit comforting,” An said.
Sung O-hyun and An Yoon-seung became friends after living at the sharehouse in Seoul, where residents would celebrate birthdays together. Source: Sung O-hyun and Not Scary Company
An says he wants to eventually get his own room in Seoul and try his hand at becoming a YouTuber.
“I want to get a girlfriend. I just want to be healthy,” he said. “I just want to make a lot of good friends. That’s what I want to do.”
For years, researchers thought hikikomori only happened in Japan as a “culture-bound” phenomenon. But stories of extreme withdrawal worldwide show the condition is not limited to Asia.
Experts say there could be more hikikomori cases worldwide that are misdiagnosed as depression or anxiety.
While many hikikomori may struggle with these disorders, social withdrawal is a specific, unique syndrome that needs special treatment, experts say.
Charlie took nearly a year to recover – and by the time he fully emerged from his room in 2021, the world looked different.
Hong Kong’s borders were still closed due to the pandemic, with restrictions on social gatherings. People could still mix in small groups, which meant Charlie could take the first steps towards recovery.
He began meeting with a social worker at the church center, at first just sitting and talking under a tree near his home. Gradually, he began participating in the center’s activities – pet therapy, arts and crafts and volunteer work.
He said he still feels anxious when meeting new people, and is more solitary than before, but he has also come a long way.
Kato, the Japanese expert, says in time, self-isolating for weeks or months may not seem so unusual. “In the future, let’s say in 2050, after lots of events like pandemics and wars, it may become normal not to go outside,” he said.
“I think that being a hikikomori will become a way of life in the future.”
Credits
Writers
Jessie Yeung, Sophie Jeong
Visual Editor
Carlotta Dotto
Illustrator
Woojin Lee
Developer
Kenneth Uzquiano
Editors
Mark Oliver, Hilary Whiteman
Contributing reporters
Saki Toi, Moeri Karasawa
Photo editor
Noemi Cassanelli
Audio editor
Matt Demspey
Related links
Japan was already grappling with isolation and loneliness. The pandemic made it worse | CNN
South Korea is paying ‘lonely young people’ $500 a month to re-enter society | CNN
South Korea’s middle aged men are dying ‘lonely deaths’ | CNN“© 2024 Cable News Network.
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