How Nail Polish Saved Me From A Mental Breakdown
After searching for a solution, I finally found relief in one place I did not expect…
I’m terrible at keeping nails. Most of my friends are good at it, especially the guys. I don’t know when it became a trend, but a lot of my male friends love keeping their nails.
Somehow, they manage to keep it long, sexy, and sleek whereas mine somehow manages to surprise me every time by looking more and more like stumped wood after a hurricane — I’ve never seen it, but if a piece of wood went through a hurricane. It will end up looking like my nails.
Yeah, you get the picture.
You know it’s serious when you have to ask your sister to undress you…
Typing right now feels like a herculean task because I just got my nail fixed, and I’m pretty sure everyone at home thinks I just got my hands out of boiling water because I just can’t seem to keep them normal.
I had to beg my sister to help put some money in my wallet because it worried me that I might break a nail — not the fake one, my actual nail. Yeah, I really don’t know what they’re making gums with these days.
Then I begged her to help me unzip my trousers — you know it’s serious when you have to ask your sister to undress you — and she replied with,
“Soon you’ll be asking me to wash your ass.”
And I couldn’t really help myself from asking if that was a serious offer because heaven knows I don’t plan on shoving these fingers up my ass.
Sadly, it wasn’t an actual offer — she made that clear when she threw a pillow at me. In my defense, who wouldn’t take up an offer to be pampered?
On the surface, this is just a normal day in the life of a very peculiar female, and really, I’m not sure anything I said above could be of any significance to anyone.
It’s just a hilarious story of why you shouldn’t bother fixing your nails if you can’t even bother to keep them long and take care of them — a lesson I’ll soon forget because I’m stubborn like that, and I feel fixed nails are enchanting.
Deep down, however, this is a much-needed relief from the two-week-long mental turmoil I’ve been in.
I honestly could not believe my string of misfortunes. It felt like stuff I would read in a book. Stuff that happens to someone else, not me.
In the last two weeks I’ve:
Lost a dear friend I admired deeply since I got into college and planned on working on our relationship as soon as we were back to our normal lives; lost money on a scam investment, which I honestly should have seen right through from the beginning…
Dealt with a family issue which began as a minor issue but blew up quickly; dealt with health issues, which left me scared for how the rest of my life would be; had constant anxiety about my academics and my overwhelming workload.
Yeah, it’s been one fun adventure after the other. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had shitty weeks since this lock-down began in my country. Hell, the last six months seemed to be a game of “1000 ways things can go wrong”.
I tell myself that whoever wrote the scripts for this game show was a freaking sadist. Whoever produced it, a maniac; and whoever saw it fit to cast me in it, a complete psychopath who really needs to tell me if I wronged them.
I honestly could not believe my string of misfortune. It felt like stuff I would read in a book. Stuff that happens to someone else, not me. Like I was watching a low-budget thriller movie.
But, when the toxicity is coming from yourself (like in my case of anxiety), or when the threat to your happiness is coming from circumstances beyond your control (like with the case of a friend’s death); you find yourself stuck in one spot.
Seeing as how I’m just studying psychology, I had this misconception that knowledge made me immune to the effects of this misfortune — they can happen, but they’d never be a threat to my mental health.
At some point, not only did it not feel real, but it also didn’t feel like it was happening to me. I felt like I was suspended somewhere, watching it all happen.
Somewhere in my labyrinth of a mind, I knew it was happening to me, but mentally I felt separated from myself — like I was independent of the being that was going through all that. Kind of like the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I just couldn’t personalize it.
With more light shone on mental issues, a lot of us are learning to prioritize our mental health. The goal is to live free from anything that is remotely negative or strenuous to our mental being.
We’re finding out that a healthy mind means a merry life — or at least a peaceful one — and who doesn’t want to be happy? So there’s a lot going around about cutting off toxic relationships and making your happiness a priority above anything else.
But, when the toxicity is coming from yourself (like in my case of anxiety), or when the threat to your happiness is coming from circumstances beyond your control (like with the case of a friend’s death); you find yourself stuck in one spot.
If you’re like me who believe a there’s always a solution somewhere, being stuck at that spot is probably just as bad as going through all that misfortune.
You’re seeing a challenge to your deep-rooted belief. A challenge you can’t sweep away or label as irrelevant. It’s a challenge you can’t seem to overcome, and that more than anything else will eat you up like a hungry vacuum cleaner.
In times like that, when all self-help and advice seem ineffective, you’re left with one wish: a relief
For me, that came from doing something I was unfamiliar with. fixing nails I’ll probably rip off before the end of this week (that’s if I don’t injure myself sooner) and fixing lashes I have no clue how to remove.
For me, it was the little touch-up to my looks, the beautification of my nails, and the light banter between my sister and me that gave me the much-needed relief from all the mental turmoil.
For me, it was something socially acceptable. Something that didn’t bring harm to myself or others. Something that is expected of my gender.
For someone else, it could be something more radical. Something that incites pain. These things are often little and seemingly irrelevant, but their effects can seem like a miracle sent from God.
Even though I know this was just a temporary escape, I welcomed it with open arms because sometimes there’s no textbook solution. Sometimes all the blogs, books, prayers, and medicine can’t help you at that moment, and it’s okay. Sometimes all that’s needed is a chance to breathe freely, even if it’s just for a second.
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