Butterflies and Hurricanes

I took the day off from work. I woke up feeling completely drained and overwhelmed. Everything in life suddenly felt too… demanding. My doctor told me recently that I’ve been going through a bit of a “hormonal turmoil.” I’m supposed to exercise every day and eat right. Seeing as I’m going to turn 29 next month (which is practically 30. Come on, whom are we kidding?) I can’t take my body for granted anymore. 

This past week, I’ve been doing some basic daily workout. (Listen, I’ve spent 29 years with myself, so this is really saying something). I played an online workout video on my laptop to do some exercise this morning, but the trainer’s profuse cheerfulness put me off. “What’s with her?”, I thought. “Who is ever that pumped about anything in life?” Halfway through my warm-up session, I threw my laptop away, changed back into my PJs and got under the covers. I knew it was probably my new medicine that was making me feel this way, but the reasons didn’t matter. I felt I needed to shut down for a while. I wanted my mind to re-centre and my body to be still. I just did not want to see people. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Didn’t matter what those thoughts were. Positive or negative, productive or destructive, creative or pessimistic. We just needed some alone time, me and the voices in my head. 

My first reaction was guilt and slight panic. To apply for a leave meant choosing not to participate in two important meetings at work. It meant having to tell my boss I wasn’t feeling well. It meant putting some work off for an entire day. Even though I have enough leaves, I still had to sit and fight these feelings off before finally choosing to stay home. (There’s a beautiful Urdu word to describe this sort of strife: kashmakash). 

It took me some time to shrug that feeling off and tell myself sometimes it’s okay not to show up. I read my book. Quiet by Susan Cain. It’s an insightful, unimposing book about the power of introverts. Its calm, understated voice soothed me. I made myself some chai with ginger, black pepper, cloves and cinnamon. I listened to some ghazals. It was heavenly.

Now, did I utilise this free time optimally? Nope. But that’s OK. Even putting yourself under the pressure of being productive is tiring. I didn’t meditate. I didn’t do chores. I just sat and watched episodes of Parks and Recreation. (Leslie Knope has the ability to make me feel goofy and relaxed. And how endearing is Ben Wyatt?)

How did that help me? By simply knowing that I enjoy the freedom of free will in this mad, challenging world. If I can choose to be home, I am in control. I’m not duty-bound to my work or my relationships. I took comfort in realising that I’m in an environment that lets me take time off.

I guess where I’m getting is this: if you’re ever feeling stressed or plain exhausted from the pressures of being a fully functional human being, it’s OK to just spare a day doing nothing. You’re not lazy, you’re not unreliable, you’re not unstable. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. You’re just human, and sometimes you need downtime. (Especially in India, where the general stress levels at work are high). There are days when you get up, get dressed, blow-dry your hair and feel fantastic, don’t you? You get out there, you talk to people, you get stuff done, you attend meetings and events. It’s all right to have days when you feel the opposite of that. 

As I type this, I’m getting texts from my colleagues asking me to join them for a party. Do I feel some pressure and a teeny bit of FOMO? Maybe just a bit. But it’s OK. I’m not done being by myself yet. I’d like to continue lying amidst my crumpled blankets and books. Maybe I’ll write some more. Maybe I’ll read. Maybe I’ll take a nap. Maybe I’ll whine about this unsettling feeling of melancholy. It doesn’t matter. Life’s good. 

P.S. Just before Diwali, the north of India gets just a tad chilly. You can smell winter in the air. All the houses begin to twinkle with little lights. I love it. Time to locate all my socks. 

P.P.S. I love my husband. I can’t believe I have one full person I can call my own.