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  • Writer's pictureKanika Bhatia

Lockdown breakthrough: Trust yourself.

The pressures of coming out of this lockdown with a skill, a new hobby or just some minor instagrammable achievement are mounting. Fact remains, that even if you’re working regularly from 9-5 your mind is somewhat free of the usual stress. Stepping out, dressing up, cabs, drivers, fuel none of these matter and a large amount of time, mental capacity is conserved even if you don’t realise it.

This free space in my cloud has me riled up. My walks serve two purposes. The holier than thou smiles I pass onto those parking their ass on chairs in their balconies, and talking to myself. Not the delusional kind, but the kind that tries to solve problems that need help. How many times before, did you really sit and address yourself?

So here it comes. Few days back, my buddy expecting my call, on being disappointed as I was occupied elsewhere, casually mentions that he expected it. He loves me besides it, but he isn’t surprised. Translation in my head, after hours of processing: Kanika, you’re probably not to be trusted.

Let me retrace a bit. I missed a day in my 30 day yoga challenge, again. I haven’t got around to cleaning that balcony I intend to since 10 days. In all fairness, who even needs 6 balconies in a house? I haven’t finished the second chapter to the book I wanna write since ages. Weather, dullness, boyfriend issues, you name it I have given it all to myself. What started as an expert edition, has been reduced to me cleaning the house once in 3 days now, well minus the kitchen and lobby. I am not a hermit, you twat. I am so good at procrastinating my blog launch, I won’t be surprised if it goes into hibernation mode on it’s own. And while I type this, I am eating my daily milky bar, even though fitness was clearly in my top goal this year.

So you get it? I am not to be trusted by myself. I can’t keep promises I make to myself. And this world is so well equipped to let that be the modus operandi. Instagram posts tell you to stop being harsh on yourself. The world asks you to slow down, your parents are sympathetic to your mental states, and instead of pushing you, probably expect you make comfort food. No brand is pushing you to strive, work hard or achieve goals this year. 2020 for you is cancelled, except “do buy the new collection out in July, we love your loyalty.” The world we know today, tells us to take these apps that will help you sleep better, drink water, because the fact you’re incapable of basic human functions sometimes, it’s FINE. It’s all good, fine. You’re trying to be human and no one really got an instruction manual.

But here’s the thing. These memes and posts made me lazy. I am the by product of consumerism that promotes lethargy. I am only as good as the last measurable goal I achieved. It’s a miracle I am not an 80 KG human, with no locomotive capabilities anymore. For every shoutout to hard work, there are 4 tweets questioning the whole existence and thus pushing you into the black hole of complacency. I am okay if I don’t finish the article, I am okay if I don’t complete the online course, I am okay if I let some vegetables rot to death in my fridge because I am flaky in my words. Me, someone who loves words. Me the same person who teaches people to respect words more than anything. I don’t respect the words that I promise myself.


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