No one really prepares you for the day you move out of your parents’ house.
There is no ceremony. No official announcement that says, “You are an adult now.” It happens quietly — through packed suitcases, folded clothes, and one last look at a room that held every version of you.

It has been three years for me now since I moved out of my parents’ house and started living alone.
And in these three years, I have heard many opinions.

Some people my age and older still live with their parents, well into their thirties. And often, the explanation given is culture. “That is how Indian culture is.” “Moving out is a Western concept.”

I have always found myself questioning that.

Is it really?

Because if that were true, how did my grandfather — and so many others from his generation — move from small towns to big cities like Mumbai, dreaming of a better life, better work, and bigger opportunities?
How was that not part of our culture? How was that not courage?

I sometimes feel that culture becomes a shield — not to protect values, but to avoid discomfort.
To avoid confronting the fear of independence, loneliness, or self-responsibility.

Moving out takes guts.

It means choosing a lifestyle where you are responsible for everything — groceries, rent, cleanliness, laundry, bills, repairs, emotions, and silence.
And yet, in society, it is often described as “cutting ties” with parents.

That part confuses me the most.

Because the more I have lived alone, the closer I have felt to my family — just in a different way.

I remember my mother’s cooking more now than I ever did while living at home. I call her to ask for recipes I never bothered to learn earlier. Sometimes those calls turn into one-hour video calls just to make sure the dish turns out right.

I call my father to ask how to fix a pressure cooker or tighten a tap — even though the internet exists. Somehow, asking him feels easier, warmer, more familiar.

I ask my grandmother how she used to drape her sarees because I want to wear them the way she did. I talk to my sibling — maybe not for practical help, but for gossip, comfort, and shared memories.

Living away has not distanced me from my family. It has made me notice them more.

Yes, living alone means handling everything yourself.
Yes, it is exhausting at times.
Yes, staying with parents is financially easier.

But living independently teaches you things that comfort never does.

It unlocks parts of you that you did not know existed. It holds up a mirror — showing you your vulnerable side, your impatient side, your capable side.
And I think many people are afraid of meeting themselves that honestly.

When someone has never handled groceries, never paid a bill, never cleaned a house, never cooked a full meal — not because they cannot, but because someone always did it for them — independence feels threatening.

And no, this is not gender-specific. It should not be. But we all know reality is not always that balanced.

Imagine two people.

Person A lives with their parents, which is perfectly fine, but has no idea how the household functions. No idea what groceries cost, where to buy essentials, how to manage a home independently.

Person B lives fifteen minutes away from their parents. Knows how to manage a house, host people, take responsibility, make decisions, and still shows up for family when needed.

Who is really more independent? Who is really more prepared for life?

Choosing where and how to live is personal. There is no single correct path. Staying with parents is not wrong. Moving out is not rebellion.

But having the option to live on your own, to experience life independently, while still having parents by your side — that feels like balance to me.

Moving out is not about rejecting where you come from.
It is about becoming someone who can stand on their own feet and still bow their head in gratitude.

You do not leave home to escape it. You leave home to understand it better.

And maybe that is the real growth no one talks about.
I would love to know your thoughts.
If you had the choice, would you move out and live alone, or does living with parents feel right for you?

Another day, another night, another week… and here I am with my blog.
How was Thanksgiving for you all?
Hopefully the cold weather was killed by the warm people around you.
And hopefully the same warmth shows up ahead, as we move into Christmas and the end of 2025.

You know what has been happening lately?
When I see someone’s real colours, I don’t get surprised anymore. It’s a strange feeling.

People disappoint you? Seen it.
People act nice because they need something? Been there.
You give your heart, and they act like it was nothing? Done that.
I don’t even get angry now. It’s more like… “Okay cool, noted.”

People Change Like Weather

I have watched people change as quickly as the weather.
I have heard promises made because it was easier to lie than to have a difficult conversation.
I have sat at tables that started as friendships and ended like I was dining with enemies.

You might say, “Oh, is that so?”
But trust me — nothing is new. Everyone has faced this in some form.

But the real plot twist happens when you start to see yourself.

I now trust my gut more than anyone’s words.
Call it overthinking, intuition, analytical skills, trauma response — pick your label.
But every time my stomach whispers, “This is going to end badly.” …it usually does.

A few weekends ago, I was on a late-night call with my best friend.
You know the ones — where your whole life story comes up after midnight,
and suddenly every “maybe” and “what if” wants attention.
She talked about her world, and I found myself saying,
“Yeah… same.” Seen it. Been there. Done that.

The Fitting-In Era

For a long time, I tried to fit into boxes.
Friendships, relationships…
That thought of:
“If I am less of myself, maybe they will accept me more.”
WRONG.
Spoiler:
That never works.
If you have to dim your light to stay in someone’s space, it’s not your space.

On this road of life — where I still am — I have made many mistakes.
Some childish, some knowingly, some expensive. I paid with time, peace, and money.

But when I look back now, I see how much healing those mistakes forced me into.
They were a learning curve — preparation for the storms I never knew were coming.

You don’t wake up wise one morning.
You get dragged, heartbroken, humiliated… and then you learn.

So you might be thinking,
“Okay, but what now?”

Here’s the answer:
Every disappointment teaches you something — if you are willing to listen.

People say I am guarded now, I don’t socialise much, I have boundaries too high, I don’t let everyone in.
They say “you have changed.” I call it self-preservation.

These aren’t excuses — they’re safety nets.
The brain remembers who hurt it.
Trauma responses? Maybe.
But they are also the first line of defence.

Whatever you have seen, wherever you have been, whatever you have already lived through —
don’t shrink because of it. Don’t go quiet on yourself.
Let your sparkle stay alive, even if it annoys a few people.

If you are reading this,
maybe this year broke you a bit.
Maybe people used you.
Maybe you tried your absolute best and got nothing in return.

Trust me — you are never alone in this journey.

But surviving, learning, and still becoming something? That’s the flex nobody can steal from you.

And if you have lived something like this,
tell me someday.
Not so I can fix it,
not so we can compare scars —
just so we both remember we are not the only messy humans figuring life out.

The year is closing soon.
Hopefully this cozy weather makes you feel warm and nice and prepares you to hit the gym 30 days from today.
Do one thing for yourself:
Stay strong enough to face tomorrow, and smart enough to remember yesterday.

So when someone says,
“You’re acting from past experience,”
you can reply:
“My analysis of life is on point. I am just a reader.”
Count your losses as lessons — and flaunt them next time.