How I Unwind Without Unravelling: A Civilised Guide to Post-Chaos Decompression”

“How I Unwind Without Unravelling: A Civilised Guide to Post-Chaos Decompression”

Let’s be honest — after a long day of dodging deadlines, deciphering messages that say “Kindly do the needful”, and resisting the urge to throw your mobile into the nearest lake, the soul demands what I call a graceful collapse.

Unwinding isn’t just about flopping onto the sofa like a Victorian fainting aristocrat — it’s an art. A delicate dance between maintaining your dignity and unashamedly retreating from all adult responsibilities. After all, we’ve braved the storm. We deserve a medal — or at least a decent cup of something strong.

Step One: Mentally Fire Everyone

No matter your profession — principal, plumber, or planetary physicist — the first act of unwinding is conducted mentally: fire everyone. That annoying colleague? Gone. That unrealistic WhatsApp group admin? Muted for eternity. The neighbour who insists on drilling at 9 p.m.? Promoted to Chief Officer of Noise Pollution, then promptly sacked.

This imaginary HR exercise is surprisingly therapeutic and costs nothing. Except your last shred of patience, which was already fraying anyway.

Step Two: Wear Clothes that Offend Fashion

Professional attire has its place — that place being not at home. The moment I walk in, I change into something so comfortable, it’s practically a legal grey area. I speak of trousers with questionable elastic, T-shirts that have seen better centuries, and socks that no longer pair — they just coexist.

Comfort over couture, every time.

Step Three: The Art of Doing Absolutely Nothing — With Intention

Some call it mindfulness. I call it staring into the abyss of my living room with profound philosophical detachment. It’s a high-performance activity that involves absolutely no movement, minimal blinking, and an internal monologue that ranges from “What is the meaning of life?” to “Did I leave the geyser on?”

This meditative pause resets the brain — or at least puts it in flight mode.

Step Four: Take an Unofficial Tea Break (or Three)

Here’s a life hack: tea doesn’t judge. Herbal, masala, green, black — it welcomes you back from the frontline of your daily grind. The ritual is calming. The sip, divine. The third cup? Slightly concerning but entirely necessary.

It’s not a beverage anymore — it’s a loyal companion. The teabag has more patience than most people I’ve met.

Step Five: Initiate Controlled Social Hibernation

No, I don’t want to join another video call, thank you. No, I won’t respond to 17 “urgent” texts that involve neither urgency nor importance. Evening hours are sacred territory — guarded fiercely against the invasion of social duties.

Unless it involves food or scandal, I’m respectfully unavailable.

Step Six: Laugh — Unapologetically

Whether it’s an old comedy sketch, a reel that’s so silly it threatens your IQ, or a well-timed memory of your own public embarrassment — laughing is non-negotiable. Nothing unwinds the tightly coiled spring of modern life like a proper laugh — the kind that begins as a chuckle and ends in a breathless existential crisis.

Before I Pretend to Sleep

Unwinding isn’t a fixed recipe. It’s more like a buffet — you pick what comforts you, ignore what bores you, and occasionally regret the third helping of nonsense. The goal isn’t to be productive, insightful, or even awake — it’s simply to recover the version of yourself that existed before the day happened.

So, if your idea of unwinding includes tuning out, turning off, or threatening your Wi-Fi with bodily harm, know this: you’re not alone. You’re in the dignified company of people who’ve chosen peace over productivity — at least for a few sacred evening hours.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a pressing appointment with my sofa and a blanket that has seen too much.