Sep 2022 - Jan 2024
It has been close to a year when I wrote last. Living in a metro city was never a plan if someone asked me a decade ago. On top of that living on my own completely was strange mix of loneliness and a whole lot of self discovery of emotions. It was a journey of bag of emotions , memories and nostalgia that I carried to make a fresh start in new city and embrace myself more about who I am. But nothing could have prepared me for the emotional whirlwind that followed.
There’s something exhilarating about being in a place where no one knows you. I was reinventing myself in few aspects. At professional front I really was a part of different environment broad base of thoughts shifting from technical to business view. Probably days I thought if I really made the right choice to get into something like this of changing cities, work, people around me. I could be bolder, more adventurous, or quieter—whatever I chose. I loved the anonymity, the endless possibilities of what each day might bring, and accepting the feeling of finally being in charge of my life without anyone else’s expectations.
Breathing in the freedom is not as romantic as it sounds. Seeking a life partner through technology of apps was emotionally draining but clearing the clouds of chaos making me think and be sure of what I dont want in my life. For the first time in my adult life, I wasn’t defined by a relationship, a job, or anyone else. Just me. It was just me and what I want.
But then, there were nights. I would come back to my 1BHK, empty and quiet, and the silence hit me harder than I expected. It wasn’t just physical silence—it was the emotional silence of being truly alone. There were no familiar voices, no shared routines, no comforting presence to fill the gaps.
Losing my parents and moving away from Coimbatore felt like a way to start fresh but it was never free from the reminders of my grief. Grief doesn’t care about distance and is loudest when alone. I had to face it, confront it, and allow myself to feel the pain.
Grief is tricky. It doesn’t always show up the way you expect it to. Sometimes it’s sharp and sudden, like when I would hear a song or smell something that reminded me of what I lost. Other times, it was a dull ache that settled in my chest, a constant reminder that someone important was missing from my life. I didn’t know how to carry it and would lighten its weight with the tears.
In those moments, I questioned everything. Had I made a mistake by moving? Was I really ready to be on my own? Should I have stayed where I was, where at least I had support? But then I’d remember that grief isn’t something you can outrun. Moving wasn’t about leaving it behind; it was about learning how to live with it. And that’s what I’m still figuring out sometimes.
Despite the heaviness of grief, there’s something else that’s grown inside me during this time: gratitude. It sounds almost contradictory, but living in this in-between space—between loss and independence, sadness and joy—I’ve learned to appreciate the small things in life in a way I never did before.
I’m grateful for the quiet mornings where I sip my coffee and watch the city wake up from my window. I’m grateful for the moments of peace when I allow myself to simply be, without pressure to perform or be “okay.” I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made, who may not be my lifelong companions yet, but who have shown up when I’ve needed them most. And I’m especially grateful for the resilience I’ve found in myself.
Learning to be on my own has been harder than I thought, but it’s also been incredibly rewarding. I’m more self-sufficient than I ever imagined. I know now that I can build a life for myself, even in the face of grief, even when things get tough. There’s strength in that knowledge, and with it comes a new sense of self-worth.I’m learning that it’s okay to feel conflicted. It’s okay to be proud of my independence while also feeling the weight of loneliness. It’s okay to grieve, but it’s also okay to find joy again, even in small, unexpected places. I’m learning to embrace both—the pain of loss and the beauty of new beginnings.
After 2 years , I’m still figuring it all out. But that’s the journey, isn’t it? I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t need to. What I do have is this moment—this beautiful, complicated, challenging moment—and for that, I am grateful.
With this probably how I found the lifelong companion is something to write in my next one !!! Until then I hope I get to write more and more :)
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