Were the pre-pandemic days joyless and painful? What did I call such days back then? Those strong urges of not wanting to start the day with exercise, wondering what to do with those god-awful extensive afternoons, finding distractions like work and food and friends, and brushing that nasty void under the rug, as deep as one could. I wonder what I called such days back then!
The problem with trauma is that it brings with itself self-awareness and the problem with even a sliver of self-awareness is that you can’t ‘un-self-aware’ yourself. Now you’re stuck with this abundance of knowledge about your insides—the way your brain speaks, the way your body reacts, the way every minute thing affects you whether or not you notice it. And this time you cannot brush it under the rug of ignorance. Now you can see, with your curious, self-aware eyes.
I know you’d be expecting me to tell you how to get over a long day. Maybe curl up in bed with a book, make yourself a cup of coffee, listen to some music or call a friend? I wish it were that simple.
Sometimes, and all the time, long days are just long. And sometimes, that’s all they feel like. But as much as I know today was a huge dip I also know tomorrow has equal amounts of chances to be different.
Sometimes long days come in bunches. Sometimes, the next day is a new day. Sometimes they grow shorter at certain points during the longish day, and sometimes they tell you to look at something you’ve been long avoiding.
To sit with a long day and to consume its length is an act of strength, and I’m not just saying this to make you or me feel better but I have grown to realize that delaying the process means not dealing with it. Maybe long days are a reminder that they do exist. But mainly because we’re so focused on having good days, better days, Instagram-post-worthy days that we refuse to accept the bad hair days, the oily nose days, the zit under your lip days, the heartbreak days, and such random long days, like today.
There’s so much life left to live, it is only fair to not expect each day to be perfect. Besides, nothing is perfect. Perfect is nothing. I mean, it shouldn’t even be a word. Now, that would be perfect.
Bipasha Shrestha is a student of BALLB at Kathmandu School of Law.