Day 54: Dazed and Confused
Day 54: May 19, 2020
Global cases: 4,982,937; Deaths: 324,544
Egypt cases: 13,484; Deaths: 659
Lilian Gamal
Psychology alumna
@LillianGamal
I made amends with my circadian rhythm. Powering through the always-tempting lazy hours of the afternoon, I managed to stay awake throughout the day, tucking myself away victoriously at 11pm. I made the decision that I would wake up and have my empowering cup of coffee first thing in the morning.
Like many victims once driven by their naivete, I tend to place illusory dominance into the hands of caffeine. I weakly delegated coffee this elusive power of regulating my mood, giving me energy to rifle through the chores of the day. I was about to have a firm grip of my fresh, burning cup of coffee, and hopefully, an even firmer grip over the new day. From high school till the present moment, I have managed to make coffee into a vicious twofold: a source of ‘strength’ for me, and a source of leverage on me.
In an unexpected turn of events, I managed to spill all the milk which was initially intended for my own savoring, rather than that of the floor. You never assume that in the silent moments inside your head, where you perform the same rehearsed procedure of making coffee; there would be a surreal transition of making quite a mess. Hot milk splattered all over the floor, over the counter, managed to sneak inside the cupboard, over packs of pasta and rice. I had jumped the gun in assuming control over my day. For the next 30 minutes or so, my mother and I, all sleeved up, washed and wiped every possible surface that was within atrocious proximity of my act.
For The Caravan‘s previous diary entries in Arabic and English go to our COVID-19 Special Coverage page.
I managed to get through the early hours of the morning, with another cup of coffee in a second remedial attempt to balance the scales. I catch myself dozing off and daydreaming for the better half of the day, wondering how on Earth am I living through a pandemic. To think that only a year ago, life was going as smoothly as ever, unknown to me that a virus was lurking nearby, stewing, growing, as we all go about our lives and distresses. Then again as far as life goes, all sudden changes always force us to reflect in hindsight.
I physically shrugged off so as to bring myself to the present moment and tried to stay focused. As my worn out excuse is now ineligible, I finally have the time to immerse myself in a good mystery book that I had gotten off the 30-pound stand from Diwan.
So far a woman, Nancy, had dyed her hair to conceal her ginger roots, along with her other darker secrets, as a way of starting a new life. I relocated to the balcony. As spring gets forcibly warmer, I am reminded every day to be grateful for the opportunity to bask in the afternoon sun. I become more cognizant, time and time again, of how I need to do all the messy, inner work of staying grounded in times of turbulence, mindful of its longevity. No due date.
Later, just before sunset, I settle on topping off my feelings of guilt of having missed three days in a row of no jogging. I lace up my running shoes; go through the same security checkpoint – overhauled by my mother dearest – to not go too far around the block where I wouldn’t micromanage a dog or two, but truthfully a decent dozen. By this time in around late April, you start to recognize the few familiar faces that you see when you go for a walk. Several people, who are strangers but neighbors to each other, have managed to get their dose of endorphin released timely in sync. No words uttered.
I’m wondering silently, with the background music blasting in my ears, whether people assign meaning to times of global panic, in fear of being left with question marks. Or is it because value only is as delivered as the type of effort you cash in? For the first time in quite a long while, time is no longer the enemy, time is now on our side. And I think the biggest challenge to achieve is whatever one ought to do, one must do, in order not to completely slip into a maddening spiral.
