This is a recent life update. Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, finding the right words seems like catching lightning in a bottle. I’ve always been the one to share the highs, the adventures, the trips, and the zeal to power through. But now, as I peer into the shadows that have crept into my days, I find myself at a loss. I don’t know where to begin or how to put things into perspective. I might be bad at this, and all I ask of you is to bear with me.

So here’s the deal: This post will be dauntingly long. I’m not promising any grand revelations or profound insights. This isn’t going to be a masterpiece of prose. It’s just me, reaching out to anyone who might need to hear that they’re not alone in their struggles. Because sometimes, just knowing that someone else is stumbling through the darkness alongside you can make all the difference.

December brought forth the wrath of everything life had to offer: the chilly unemployment, the windy solitude, the crushing weight of imposter syndrome, and the cold, relentless struggle with body image and an eating disorder. Lately, I’ve had this epiphany that I’ve been lonely and empty for quite some time now. The reasons remain elusive; I haven’t figured it out yet.

These issues have always been simmering beneath the surface, but starting afresh in adulthood has brought them all to a head—like life suddenly vomited its troubles onto my metaphorical plate all at once. I was fat earlier, but college and friends made it easy. We spent time together, going on road trips and walks, sharing laughs as we strolled through the streets, kicking pebbles, and picking up the nuances of our everyday lives. I never struggled with weight back then.

I weigh roughly the same now, yet adulthood has changed my perspective profoundly. Each step feels heavy as the body weight pulls me down. I’ve stopped buying clothes, knowing ‘L’-sized ones might not fit me anymore. I’ve stopped going out. I find myself avoiding mirrors, dreading the sight of my own reflection and the excess flesh that seems to haunt me. My friends and my oblivious college life made it easy. It never mattered then. It’s a struggle I face daily now, grappling with the physical and emotional toll of my weight.

We pondered how we would pursue our passion and earn a shitload of money, how we would fight, build our future, save for trips, and see the world together. But now, the landscape has shifted. I find myself having nowhere to go and no one to visit. Everyone is consumed by the relentless pace of life. I still talk to those three friends with whom I’ve shared everything for the past two or three years. Nothing changed in friendship. We just grew up. We still hang out with each other. However, the lens through which I view the world has shifted, colored by the stark realities of adulthood. We can’t stay over at each other’s homes. We have families to look after, money to save, debts and loans to pay back, deadlines to attend to, and work hard enough to keep our jobs.

On those particularly tough days, I contemplate the meaning of it all—just going through the motions without any real sense of purpose, getting up every morning, trying to get through the day, somehow holding back all that is pulling me down, and going back to sleep, hoping that tomorrow gets magically better.

The cherry on top would be these two most incredible, life-altering things that happened in December: having to find a new job and breaking up.

December enveloped me in its icy grip; its harsh, frigid nights felt especially brutal as I had to leave my job and hunt for a new one. The hunt began several weeks before, but it wasn’t until December that I fully faced the burden of potential unemployment. The situation was perplexing: a tangled web of concerns involving work-life balance, higher expectations from teammates, and wrestling with self-doubt about my future and growth loomed over me. I had to move on.

Each passing day brought a surge of stress and anxiety, accompanied by relentless questions echoing in my mind. Could I make it? Did I truly possess the skills to deserve another opportunity? Or was my past success merely a stroke of luck? The relentless grip of imposter syndrome left me reeling, my eyes weary, and my head pounding with loud thoughts. The fear gnawed at me—what if this were my only chance?

We are the same, you and I, in the same swamps. Trust me, you’ll get there. If I could make it, you would too. I know things are hard right now, and honestly, though I may not have all the answers, I know this much: the path ahead may be daunting, but you’ll make it through. The swamps are dark, but you’re not alone.

The universe dealt its masterstroke when, amidst the uncertain darkness, the one person I could always confide in decided to leave. I shut down. All I wanted was to sleep, avoid confronting the harsh reality, and not get up. But I had to. I was serving my notice period. I had to get up. How else would I pay my EMIs if I didn’t find a job?

The period was very short before she came back, although it was only for a couple of weeks. But it was the darkest time in recent memory. My mind raced with a million thoughts. What about the things I planned to do with her? The two-bedroom apartment we were supposed to rent in Bangalore, the road trip to Ladakh we were supposed to go on, and the new car we wanted to save money for—moving abroad together and finding jobs—all dashed in an instant. It felt like a brutal accident. How do I pick myself up and drive to the hospital? How do I go on from here, with no job and no one to talk to?

Life changed after December 15th. We got back together when she realized we both wanted the same things. I got a job, a better one with better pay, and got the rest of the month off. Things started improving. I went back home, spent time with my family, and slept all day. I went back to those familiar streets with that friend, ate all I wanted, unbothered, hung out with my friends, drove past those old streets, rolled down the windows, and let the December ember winds hit me.

I went past those old college roads, looking at tiny ducklings stepping out into the real world. Observing the vibrant energy of youth, oblivious to life’s complexities, untethered, eating and laughing, brought a sense of solace. Brooding over all that I had gone through recently, I remembered that scene from The Dark Knight and realized that the night is darkest just before dawn, and I promise you that dawn is coming.

The universe is oddly funny. January unfolded in vivid, contrasting shades. Life had unexpected plans. While work life went smoothly and was promising, my love life plummeted to unforeseen depths. We met, and she bid adieu. This time, it was the end. She was rigid and determined. Her resolve was unyielding as she uttered, “I’ve fallen out of love.”

How does one simply fall out of love? It’s a question that continues to baffle me. Long-distance relationships are inherently challenging, requiring immense love, effort, and dedication to sustain. Any relationship, for that matter, is equally challenging. January left me shattered. I fought hard to get out of this. I tried going on walks and talking to people. Nothing helped.

As a man grappling with both the aftermath of a breakup and the desire for self-improvement, I found myself lost in a sea of uncertainty. A fat guy who got dumped, trying to make it, become thinner, and get payback by building himself up. It didn’t work for me; I couldn’t push myself enough. Life became blank. Those million questions came rushing back. How do you stop talking to somebody you planned your entire life with? This seems like a new life altogether.

She said she needed to explore herself, figure out more about her, and find out who she really was, rather than staying my girlfriend. She said she never got a chance to discover more about herself.

A part of me wanted what was best for her, even if it meant separating. A part of me understood her motivations and truly wished for her happiness, while another part longed for reconciliation, clinging to hope like a fragile icicle. I had no choice but to agree with her, secretly wishing that she would do all this while staying together.

The dread begins when you’re still connected on social media and find out that she has moved on. The realization that she had been mentally disconnected long before physically severing ties only added to the anguish. The thought that she moved on a while ago, while you were stuck there, dreaming of a life that was never there, now intensifies this mental agony. The dread is when you ponder all the inconsistencies, like how she claimed she wanted to live life without being involved with men for a year or so before finally moving on, yet it didn’t take her more than a week to let go.

Hope is the most destructive tool. It’s the hope that kills you. Hope builds up when she calls back, wants to talk to you, and tells you she misses you. Hope builds faith. Faith makes you a fanatic. Hope is that same icicle that now wrecks your heart when she says she wants you to move on like she did. What does kill hope?

To you, reading this, if you’re facing similar struggles, know that I’m right there with you, navigating these stormy waters as best I can.

It’s February 18th today. I sit alone in my room, writing this in a familiar place—my chest feeling heavy, lost in depths of despair, grappling with loneliness, wondering what went wrong and what I could have done differently. Each passing moment feels like a battle, as I wrestle with the question: Where do I go from here?

The idea of stepping into the gym beckons, but doubts claw at the edges of my mind. The thought of lacing up my sneakers and embarking on the daily pilgrimage to the gym fills me with apprehension, each step a painful reminder of my lack of discipline. How do I make friends? Bangalore is a bustling city. My friends do not have time. They are either busy with work, stay far away, or have more important things to deal with. Nobody has time.

I tried dating apps for a month, but they didn’t work. The internet made it pretty clear that the crowd wasn’t interested. Will I be forever alone? In a city teeming with life, I find myself adrift, yearning for connection but unable to find a foothold.

As I said, I don’t have a solution. What has worked for me so far includes:

• Hobbies and keeping busy: Life goes on. As you tend to work more, follow up on your hobbies, take up singing classes, pick up those boxing lessons that you’ve always marked as not-done on your list, walk and shop for the shopping list you had, you slowly realize that it isn’t so bad after all. Looking at people from all walks of life, talking to them and living their stories lifts you up.

• Reading, watching, gaming: Those half-read books, the shows left behind, and the paused podcasts are yet to be finished. Delving into stories, living lives as mythical new characters, fighting demons in hell, and yearning for the love of your wife like Kratos pushes up your heart. You feel happy, wanting to eat pizza, chug boba tea, and sleep peacefully.

• Trips, day outs, and living more: Take out time to live. Do not think; book that solo trip. Order that tandoori chicken and bump up the volume on that stand-up special. Convince friends to build that project together. Take synchronized leaves with friends, and carry out that Goa plan. At the end of the day, you’ll find it easy to fall asleep when you’re tired from the trip, looking at the moon from the beach, and thinking about all that went wrong. You may find a couple of answers written up there, or somewhere beyond the horizon where the water, the sun, and the sky meet.

• Talk to people: I know and understand sharing is hard. But try talking to people—your close friends, family, or even the guy who sells you milk and newspapers. People relate and share stories, and in these conversations, you tend to find answers. Confiding in people helps.

If you’re still reading this, I thank you from the deepest, rockiest bottom of my heart for staying with me and reading through all my misery. If you’re going through something like this, you are not alone. I am still figuring out how to save money, build discipline to go to the gym, lose weight, and find someone—life is too beautiful to spend alone. I’m looking for a group of friends willing to take me in.

I am still inside these swamps, trying just to get a breath and not drown and swirl to the depths. I’ve caught a few breaths, barely staying alive. I can assure you, it gets easier as we move forward. The despair doesn’t recede. We become busy and slowly start moving on. We tend to grow around this space. This is what real growth looks like: waking up someday, not feeling like crying, and actually wanting to look forward to what the day has to offer. Willing enough to go to sleep, peaceful. Starting to live, and not merely exist. We aren’t there yet. We will get there, together.