Lonely in Joy

Why is it different?

Solitude in the mountains.

I had been craving this for months.

After four months of being surrounded by people, I was dying to feel the quiet—to sing and dance by myself, to sit with my thoughts uninterrupted.

And I got it. I made it to Himachal Pradesh and found myself a homestay. Maybe I had manifested solitude a little too well, because just three days in, the owner asked if I could take care of the property while she visited her home. Which meant that unless guests showed up, I’d be completely alone. Just me, a big empty property, and a furry companion who, thankfully, required little from me.

I hesitated at the responsibility but felt excited for the time alone.

That first night, though? I was scared. Unsettled.

I hadn’t realized how deafeningly quiet the mountains could be. Without the hum of a fan for white noise, every little sound—every creak, every rustle—made me jumpy. Even the noises I made myself! I was completely alone in an unfamiliar place, and loneliness crept in, laced with fear.

But I could sit with it. I could comfort myself through it.

Yesterday was different.

After a long, draining workday, I switched off the internet to quiet my overstimulated brain. Picked up my half-finished book—Tuesdays with Morrie—and told myself I’d read for half an hour before getting back to work.

I read for an hour and a half straight and finished the book. Tears rolled down my cheeks, the cold air making them tingle. The words hit me in ways I can’t fully explain—life-affirming is the closest I can get, and even that doesn’t do it justice. I felt an overwhelming sense of joy.

And in that joy, I felt lonely. Very lonely.

My only companion was a dog I’d met two weeks ago, curled up beside me, unaware that I’d be saying goodbye to him the next day. My people were miles away, all caught up in their own journeys. And it sucked. Not having anyone to share that moment with, no one to hug, no one to excitedly yap to, made the joy feel incomplete.

And that’s when I realized—lonely sadness and lonely joy are two very different things.

Sadness and fear come from lack—lack of comfort, lack of safety. And when loneliness is born from that, it’s easier to sit with. You can hold yourself through it, reassure yourself.

But the loneliness that comes when you feel immense joy—that’s different. That kind comes from overflowing goodness. It’s the kind of joy that longs to be shared, to be poured into another cup so you can both savour its sweetness together.

And when there’s no one there to hold it with you, it lingers.

Ever felt the ache of unshared joy?

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Little Joys

“Joy is always around if only we pause to acknowledge it.”

With life's burdens and big ambitions, it's easy to overlook our everyday joys. let’s take a moment to acknowledge the small joys from the last week. Here are mine -

• I read the beautiful book - Tuesdays With Morrie.

• I had two interesting and delicious coffees - a Gingerbread latte and an Alpenlibe latte.

• I saw and captured a brilliant sunset.

• Remember the guy I met in my last newsletter? He offered me a new interesting writing gig and I took it!

• I became daring in my walks in this new place and have been discovering shortcuts that are not on the maps (I have never done that before!).

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Stories from my journey

I managed to tick 3 things off my Slow Down Bucket List last week and make a reel on one of them - A morning of painting as a non-painter.

For Valentine’s Day, I took a piece I wrote in my journal and turned it into a post on how love is supposed to set you free. It’s very close to my heart.

Then I shared a reel on how I ended up taking care of a homestay and pet-sitting for the first time ever!