In Search of Silence

1. Grief and Love are Forever Intertwined

Grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable.

Inseparable emotions. The author opens by asserting that grief and love are inextricably linked, a profound truth learned through the devastating loss of her husband, Rob, to suicide. This experience reshaped her understanding of love, transforming it from a hopeful, naive ideal into something deeper, more complicated, and honest. The vastness of grief, she notes, overwhelms our minuscule selves, occupying the core of our being.

Profound impact. Rob's death, three years prior to the book's opening, was a "ground zero" event that radiated outwards, engulfing everyone who knew him. Despite their separation due to his addiction and depression, the author and Rob were still deeply in love. This immense love, however, could not conquer his illness, forcing her to confront the brutal reality that love alone cannot save someone, nor can it prevent profound loss.

Altered perspective. The experience of losing Rob fundamentally altered her perception of love, stripping away childlike notions and Hollywood narratives. It became clear that love is not a simple solution or a guarantee of salvation. Instead, it is a complex force that, when intertwined with grief, demands an honest reckoning with reality, shaping one's past, present, and future in ways both painful and ultimately hopeful.

2. Societal Expectations Shape Our Lives Unconsciously

No one specifically said the words, ‘When you grow up, you are going to have to meet someone, and then you are going to settle down with them and get married and have babies. You are going to need to do this before you turn thirty. And you have to do this because otherwise you won’t be happy. You will die alone. And if you don’t want to be paired up, then you are weird.’ Yet that doesn’t mean it wasn’t and isn’t implied in every single way we conduct ourselves, in the storytelling around happiness, in the millions of conversations we have over lunch, drinks after work and at family dinners.

Invisible pressure. The author highlights the pervasive, unspoken societal pressure to conform to a specific life trajectory: find a partner, marry, have children, and achieve career success. This narrative, deeply ingrained from childhood, creates an "echo chamber" where individual desires often get lost amidst collective expectations. Even in a liberal South Indian family, the pressure to "settle down" was palpable, despite parents prioritizing education and personal happiness.

Internalized beliefs. This constant societal messaging leads to internalized beliefs about what constitutes a "happy life," making it difficult to discern one's own authentic desires from external influences. The author recounts her own yearning for a partner in her twenties, driven by a fear of loneliness and the prickle of urgency as peers paired off. This pressure, she observes, is not unique to heterosexual women but affects everyone navigating a world with rigid frameworks for happiness.

Questioning norms. After Rob's death, the author found herself observing life from a detached perspective, free from the immediate pressure of these expectations. However, as she slowly re-engaged with the world, the "sardine run" of societal norms attempted to pull her back in. This experience prompted her to question:

• Are the lives we have truly the ones we want?
• What is our own thought, our own hope, and what is the echo of everyone else’s?
• How can we distinguish between genuine desires and those imposed by others?

3. The "Happy Ending" Narrative is a Trap

The glittering bauble of the happy ending is a trap – both in the story it sells, and in the prison it creates for anyone who bought into it and finds life is more complicated than that.

Unrealistic ideals. The author critiques the pervasive "happy ending" narrative, prevalent in fairy tales and rom-coms, which suggests that once love or marriage is achieved, a happy life is guaranteed. This simplistic view fails to prepare individuals for the complexities and challenges of real life, such as illness, addiction, or personal struggles, which can profoundly impact relationships.

Incomplete story. This narrative presents only the "first act" of a life, leaving out the ongoing effort, compromises, and difficult questions that arise in long-term relationships. The author and Rob, for instance, married with the belief that love would conquer all, only to confront the harsh realities of his chronic depression and heroin addiction. They didn't ask crucial questions about how these illnesses would affect their roles as partners or their ability to raise children.

Hidden struggles. The pressure to maintain the illusion of a perfect "happy ending" often leads people to hide their struggles, even from loved ones. The author and Rob kept his addiction a secret, fearing judgment. This silence, she argues, is a direct consequence of a narrative that doesn't allow for imperfection or vulnerability, creating a "prison" for those who find their lives more complicated than the story they were sold.

4. True Freedom Lies in Choosing Your Own Path

This was the best and only thing the grief ever gifted me: what it felt like to be utterly free of the expectations of other people, and, to a deeper extent, of myself.

Unburdened by loss. Rob's death, while devastating, paradoxically gifted the author a profound sense of freedom from external and self-imposed expectations. The immense pressure of career trajectories, homeownership, and starting a family evaporated, replaced by the fundamental need to simply stay alive. This radical shift allowed her to consider her life's direction without the usual societal constraints.

Active choice. Initially, this freedom manifested as a desire to escape her sadness and London, leading to fleeting ideas of becoming a yoga teacher or beach bum. However, through therapy and introspection, she realized true freedom wasn't about escaping unhappiness but about actively choosing her life's path. This meant confronting her fears and doubts, and making decisions based on her own evolving needs, not just surviving like "flotsam on the tip of a wave."

Redefining success. Her decision to quit a high-profile job and travel, initially met with skepticism, became an act of self-determination. She sought to understand if the pressures she felt were inherent or a product of her environment, and whether she was placing limitations on herself. This journey was not about finding instant happiness, but about:

• Returning with a firmer sense of what she wanted and needed.
• Challenging the illusion of freedom that often keeps us in self-created prisons.
• Embracing the unpredictability of a life chosen authentically.

5. Love Extends Beyond Romantic Relationships

What this means in a post-Rob world is that I’ve come to realise that our lives are built upon a shore of so many different types of love.

Beyond romance. After Rob's death, the author's understanding of love expanded beyond the singular focus on romantic partnership. She realized her life was supported by a "shore of so many different types of love," including her family and friends, whose unwavering support during her grief became a profound source of comfort and strength. This shift in perspective allowed her to prioritize and nurture these often-overlooked connections.

Nurturing family bonds. Spending extended time with her parents in India became a crucial part of this journey. She sought to understand them as individuals, beyond their roles as parents, by asking questions about their pasts and unconventional choices. This deepened their bond, allowing her to appreciate their resilience and strength, and to actively choose to prioritize this love while they were still present, rather than taking it for granted.

Unconventional inspirations. The stories of her grandparents, who made bold choices for love and survival despite societal disapproval and immense hardship, further broadened her view. Her grandmothers, in particular, embodied strength and independence, challenging traditional roles. Witnessing her mother's spontaneous dance on a boat in India, unburdened by self-consciousness, revealed that the "bravery or rebelliousness" she thought was Western was "in her blood the entire time," rooted in a deeper, more expansive understanding of love and self-expression.

6. Silence and Solitude Reveal Your Authentic Self

In the spaces of silence we finally hear a voice that is our own. It comes unbidden, softly, willingly, not through trauma or coaxed through the words of a therapist or a friend delivering tough love.

Seeking quiet. The author's journey to places like Meghalaya, Nepal's Annapurna mountains, and New Zealand's remote west coast was driven by a deep need for silence and solitude. She found that India's "frantic buzz" could be cloying, robbing her of oxygen, and sought the quietude of mountains and untouched landscapes to reconnect with herself. These "otherworldly places" became spaces where she felt Rob's presence most profoundly, yet also where she could process her grief without external distractions.

Confronting inner noise. In these silent environments, stripped of urban distractions and technological constant connectivity, she was forced to confront her own "bullshit." The absence of external noise amplified her internal voice, allowing for introspection at its own pace. This process, initially unsettling, revealed uncomfortable truths about her past self, her reactions, and the person she was becoming, without the need for catastrophic events to force self-understanding.

A reflection bowl. Silence, she discovered, is not merely a respite from noise but a "reflection bowl" that forces confrontation. It reveals who creates one's loneliness, makes one's choices, and is responsible for one's life. This profound realization led her to understand that true silence is not just about being in remote locations, but about cultivating an inner stillness that can be carried anywhere, allowing one to know oneself amidst external pressures.

7. Meaning, Not Just Happiness, Guides a Fulfilling Life

When facing any decision small or large, don’t think about whether it will make you happy, because we are terrible at predicting that. Think about whether it will enlarge you or diminish you. That makes things a lot clearer.

Beyond fleeting joy. The author questions the societal obsession with happiness as the ultimate life goal, noting that it often creates a "permanent emotional hunger" and anxiety, especially when one's life doesn't align with perceived norms. She argues that happiness, when pursued as a commodity or through rigid planning, often feels inauthentic. Instead, she proposes "meaning" as a more reliable navigator for life's course.

Enlargement vs. diminution. Drawing on the wisdom of psychoanalyst James Hollis, she suggests that decisions should be evaluated not by whether they promise happiness, but by whether they "enlarge or diminish" one's being. This framework offers greater clarity, as one can more readily discern actions that foster growth and authenticity from those that lead to hiding or self-betrayal. Her decision to leave her job and travel, for instance, was an act of enlargement, even if it didn't immediately bring happiness.

Internal philosophy. Her visit to Auroville in Pondicherry, a non-denominational spiritual center, further solidified this shift. Its teachings emphasized strengthening the "internal self," seeking answers within, and finding meaning through inner balance and love, rather than external fixes. This philosophy resonated deeply, helping her to move beyond anger and blame, and to understand that her life's purpose was not about filling the "huge hole left behind by Rob," but about building a new, meaningful existence from within.

8. Rebuilding After Loss Requires Active Self-Creation

The woman who stood by his grave looking down as he was lowered into the earth was a different person. She was exposed to the elements, her skin and her mind flayed open, her eyes the colour of the storm, her heart filled with sadness. But, over time, she learned to build a new mind, a new skin.

The shattered self. Rob's death was an "earthquake" that shattered the author's former self, leaving her feeling like an apartment "shaken to smithereens." The woman she was when Rob was alive died with him, buried in his coffin. The process of rebuilding was not about returning to her old self, but about actively creating a "second self" – one that was more awake, aware, and resolute, forged in the fire of grief.

Conscious reconstruction. This rebuilding involved a conscious effort to stitch together the surviving fragments of herself, making them stronger and more complicated. It was a daily act of choosing to live, even when her mind was "torn apart and put together every day." This self-creation was not a "gimmick" or a superficial transformation, but a profound, internal process of becoming "something altogether more powerful, more truthful."

Embracing the new. The author acknowledges that her heart would never change its shape, but it stopped tearing apart with grief. The new self, while still carrying the sadness of the past, was also stronger and more capable. This journey of self-creation involved:

• Identifying what parts of her survived and what broke irreparably.
• Understanding her limits and newfound strengths.
• Actively choosing her life, rather than merely surviving like flotsam.

9. Confronting Fear is the Path to Courage

Courage or bravery was not to do with not feeling afraid. The difference, he said, was ‘acting, while feeling afraid’.

Fear's sabotage. The author learns that the brain is wired for change but resists it, creating "cognitive dissonance" when faced with new actions. This internal chaos, coupled with external doubts from others, often leads to self-sabotage. Her own panic attack in New Zealand, fueled by an overwhelming sense of dread and the conviction she would die, highlighted how fear can paralyze and distort reality.

Acting despite fear. Drawing on advice from Dr. Srini Pillay and Oliver Burkeman, she understands that courage isn't the absence of fear, but the act of "acting, while feeling afraid." This involves accepting fear as a normal part of change and leaning into it, rather than letting it dictate decisions. Her solo road trip through New Zealand's remote west coast, undertaken despite lingering anxiety, became a testament to this principle.

Small steps, big impact. Overcoming fear also involves breaking down daunting changes into manageable steps. The "switch cost" of change can be uncomfortable, like "wearing a wet swimsuit with sand lodged up your crack." However, by focusing on what she wanted to achieve (a firmer sense of self) and understanding that not every change is permanent, she could move forward. This journey, though challenging, ultimately allowed her to confront her deepest fears and choose survival.

10. Human Connection is Essential for Being Witnessed

We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things, all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying, “Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness.”

The need for a witness. The author reflects on the profound human need to be "witnessed" – to have one's life seen, understood, and cared for by others. This concept, initially explored in the context of marriage, extends to all meaningful relationships. After losing Rob, her primary witness, she grappled with how to navigate this need with friends and family, and whether to recalibrate the importance of each connection.

Antidote to loneliness. Sociologist Eric Klinenberg emphasizes that happiness and fulfillment largely stem from other people, and that loneliness is combated by having diverse social support. Being understood and seen by others acts as a "critical antidote to loneliness." This means not just superficial interactions, but deep connections with people who truly know you, even down to trivial preferences like "SHE LIKES CHOCOLATE AND ONLY CHOCOLATE!"

Rebuilding connections. Her journey, initially driven by a desire for solitary existence, ultimately revealed the indispensable role of human connection. She realized that her anger and desire to remove herself from people stemmed from a fear of further loss, rather than a genuine preference for solitude. The act of "weighing anchor" and seeking validation for a remote life was challenged by the understanding that:

• Solitary happiness is not possible.
• Relationships truly matter, offering anchors to past, present, and future.
• Love, at its most powerful, is known and built on shared history.

11. Redefining Belonging and Home Within Yourself

Even if I will never live here, this is a moment that I can fashion into belonging and peace and take with me wherever I go.

Unmoored by loss. After Rob's death, the author felt untethered, her "anchor to England" pulled up from the bottom of the sea. She didn't belong in India, nor anywhere else, for a time. This feeling of not belonging, initially unsettling, evolved into a realization that belonging wasn't about a fixed geographical location, but an internal state she needed to cultivate.

Internal landscape. Her return to Mangalore, her ancestral home in India, after 25 years, offered a profound sense of connection. Hearing her language, Tulu, spoken in the streets, and observing the "dignified" nature of its people, she felt a "clicking together of pieces." This experience, coupled with kayaking in its quiet backwaters, allowed her to fashion a sense of belonging and peace that she could carry with her, regardless of her physical location.

Mindset over geography. The journey taught her that a city or place cannot "gobble you up" if your mindset is bigger than its concrete and gasoline. Travel, she realized, provides the backdrop to evaluate one's life, revealing that one's life, loves, and work are self-built. This empowers one to choose what to keep and what to remove, and to rebuild even if everything is smashed to dust. True belonging, therefore, is an internal construct, a "shell" built from self-awareness and intentional choices, rather than a passive acceptance of external circumstances.

12. Embrace the Messiness: Life is Not a Formula

Our lives are not mathematics so easily solved by following a certain formula.

No perfect script. The author concludes that life is not a linear formula with predictable outcomes, nor can it be solved by following a rigid script. The "glittering bauble of the happy ending" is a trap, and even those who follow traditional paths may end up in unexpected places. This realization allows for the acceptance of flaws, mistakes, and the freedom to "fuck up and start over again."

Beyond control. Love, a primary emotion, has no intention of playing by rules, and trying to impose order on it is futile. Her own experience with Rob taught her that love, while powerful, doesn't guarantee a smooth path or fix all problems. Instead, it requires "active caring, active curiosity – choice," and an understanding that it is not a passive feeling but an ongoing commitment.

Authentic living. The journey ultimately leads to an embrace of life's inherent messiness and unpredictability. There is no shortcut to honesty, inner peace, or resilience. Instead, it's about:

• Acknowledging that there is no perfect system or "them and us."
• Taking charge of one's own narrative, rather than blaming external factors.
• Cultivating an inner silence and strength to navigate life's challenges, knowing that even if the wrecking ball comes, one can always rebuild.

Last updated: January 3, 2026