Authenticity, Loneliness & Writing
If you were ever confused about loneliness and being, here's something...
Dear person,
It’s mid-afternoon. Light is crafting all sorts of interesting shadows on my patio. It’s been dry and dusty these days. Three buildings are under construction around me, and I get to hear their lovely sounds every morning. Initially, it was rather difficult, but now it’s just background music. Fascinating how our minds adapt to things.
The best news today? My first course got approved on Insight Timer! This is huuuuuuuuuge for me! I’ve been trying to get the audio edits right for a year now, but I kept getting rejected. After countless errors and trials, it’s finally here. Honestly, I had given up on it. I even had a Plan B—if I got disapproved again, I’d just publish it somewhere else. But I don’t have to, because it’s here now.
Look how beautiful it is! I worked so hard on it, and it was absolutely worth it. I’m probably going to write another post documenting this whole crazy journey.
Also, it went live today, and I already have five students enrolled (last I checked). Hurrah! I’m super giddy today— time to fill up my Joy Jar.
I have lived alone in many different places, but this time feels different. In all the other places, I always managed to find community—people to talk to. But here, I only see one person who comes to the house to cook, and the rest of my time is just me, with myself.
I am getting to spend a lot of time with myself now. Normally, I’m a busy person—not because I have to be, but because of my multiple interests. I do puzzles. I like to watch shows (there are so many shows to watch). I binge-watch stuff. I like to learn languages (I aim to get to A2 level in Spanish in next two months and learn entire Hiragana script). I write letters to people around the world. I join writing communities and book clubs. I read. And if I ever get the chance, I would move to a beach for an entire year—just to read and write.
When I imagine my end days (not that I often do, but when I wonder about them), I always see myself writing and reading in a cozy space, surrounded by people I love. But there’s always writing. You know—because that’s something I know about me.
This time alone has been nourishing. I feel like I am learning more about human beings and their connection to the world. We are often sold the idea that being alone equals being lonely. But I have always questioned that. I’ve always felt that loneliness is not about solitude—it’s about feeling disconnected. You can be surrounded by people and still feel the loneliest.
I feel like loneliness comes from the feeling of not being able to be your authentic self—not feeling heard or validated, or not being you around the people you want to connect with. I think that disconnection, between your authentic self and the people you wish to connect with, is loneliness.
Being alone, though, is just being solitary. It’s like one house in a garden. Just one house. It’s like a number. Yes, being alone is a number, and loneliness is a feeling — when you feel disconnected from your authenticity.
I’m not saying that if you are deeply authentic with yourself, you will never feel lonely. But I do feel that you can absolutely feel lonely when surrounded by people and yet never feel lonely when you are alone. The two are not the same. They actually have very different meanings, and they stand alone.
I often wonder—if loneliness is also about disconnection from oneself, but how do you actually begin to feel at home with yourself? And if it’s about authenticity, how do you start feeling truly authentic?
What would coming back home to yourself feel like?
One of the things I recently discovered is that authenticity is biological to humans. It was a lightbulb moment—the kind where you find yourself saying, Oh, that's what it was.
One of the core things I long for in my human connections is the ability to share my authentic self—bringing it as bare-bones as it can get.
I have always felt a little restless, like an unnamed thing you can’t quite pinpoint, but I feel it most in relationships where I struggle to be authentic.
A foggy wall runs parallel between me and these connections.
It’s as if my emotions keep shifting in their space, like a restless kid on a long bus ride.
I’ve always wondered why this has been my greatest struggle.
I never found my answers—only a lot of uncomfortable feelings and distanced connections.
We still talked, hugged, cared. But the sacred space that exists between two humans just wasn’t there.
I felt the rules of connection were too rigid and strict, making it hard for me to show up effortlessly. Yet, it always feels like a dishonor to myself not to show my whole self to people.
And then I found writing.
I realized this is the thing that feels the most like belonging and my most authentic self. I am never thinking too much when I am writing.
My student, D, shared with me in one of our classes how she spent time writing poetry during a period of overwhelming stress. Writing became her channel. And I remember that whenever life gets a little hard, I find comfort in writing poetry too. Some of my best poems have come from my most difficult life experiences.
Sometimes, writing feels more human than humans themselves. There’s something about writing—about being able to express yourself unabashedly. I think it’s one of the healthiest things I do for my brain too.
I hope you’re enjoying Kaus’ Postcards. I started this publication to cultivate a writing practice and connect with people through my writing. I’ve decided that after my 100th post, I will open the publication for monetary support (meaning: a few posts will be reserved for paying members) until then it remains free - in hopes that this objective will push me to write consistently.
Currently at 73/100.
However if you wish to support my writing, you can make a donation here: Donations but Substack paywall will remain turned off. I don’t know how this intention will pan out but I hope it does because that will mean: us spending more time together. This space has started to feel sacred and special even though I do not turn up as often as I would like to.
I am immensely grateful for being able to connect with you through this space and my writing. I am grateful for your inspiring messages that give me butterflies and fill me with so much love (every single one of them). I see you and I love you.
Thank you immensely,
dear person.
