Cocoon Diaries: Entry # 1: Cocooning: My New National Policy (Since No One Else Asked Me Anyway)

The Thought That Gatecrashed My Brain

As I sat sipping chai, just minding me,
The world outside was staging its grand mess —
Fake smiles, loud rants, and zero decency,
While drama queens rehearsed in full excess.

Then BAM! — it hit, like WiFi back online:
“Dear self, why care? You’re not their moral cop.
You didn’t break it — why repair their spine?
Relax your brain, put all that stress to stop!”

The kettle whistled loud, my dog just sneezed,
A bird flew by, perhaps to second that.
“Detach, dear soul — stay weird, stay mildly pleased,
And wear your peace like your loose comfy hat!”

Thus came my thought — no invite, but dead right:
Let them go nuts. You stay home. Sleep tight.

There was a time — not so long ago — when I firmly believed that good behavior would somehow heal the world. You know: honesty, commitment, a dash of humility, a pinch of truthfulness — stir well and serve warm. But clearly, while I was busy following this self-created ethical recipe, the rest of the world was cooking something entirely different. Something spicy, toxic, and probably illegal in most mental health guidelines.

Every morning I wake up to strife. The news channels scream — somebody has crashed (literally and figuratively), somewhere there’s a strike, and somebody else has discovered a brand new way to create conflict. And these are the professionals. The amateurs — my fellow citizens — are adding their own creative flair in daily life: backstabbing, two-faced compliments, friendships based on benefits, relationships with expiry dates, zero accountability, and Olympic-level selfishness.

At first, I thought I could fight it. You know — one person with good values is like that tiny leak in the dam that eventually bursts open and floods the plains with goodness. Turns out, I was just the drop. The dam’s still standing. And they’ve built a shopping mall on it.

The Era of “Me First, You Who?”

In this glittering new world order, I realized certain things:

• Cheering for others’ success? Nope, too much energy. Why clap for someone when you can secretly hope they trip on stage?
• Honesty? Too old school. Better to sugarcoat, then bad-mouth in private. Makes for great group chats.
• Commitment? Why commit when you can ghost?
• Values? Vintage. Might as well hang them next to that framed black-and-white wedding photo of our grandparents.

My Daily Internal Wrestling Match

Initially, all of this hurt. Deeply.

“Should I explain to them how wrong they are?”
“Maybe they don’t know what commitment means.”
“Perhaps if I remind them that cheering for others doesn’t cost money…”
“Maybe they’re simply busy and forgot basic human decency.”

I tried every angle of benefit-of-doubt psychology. I gave second chances, third chances, multiple-season renewals like Netflix series. But by the 27th betrayal and the 53rd display of selfishness, I finally had my eureka moment:

“WHY AM I THE ONE GOING TO THERAPY WHEN I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING WRONG?”

The Great Letting Go (years back, yet still work on it)

And thus, I made peace with the only sensible conclusion:
I don’t run this country. I don’t run this world.
No world leader has called me to their policy meeting. No UN delegate is asking for my moral compass. My WhatsApp doesn’t ding with messages saying, “Hey Dear, can you save society today?”

So why should I ruin my own blood pressure, stomach lining, and sleep schedule trying to fix what nobody even thinks is broken?

I had no hand in creating this mess. In fact, I’ve been that overly obedient kid in class who followed every rule and still got detention because someone else was chewing gum.

So I’ve decided:

I am done.

Welcome to My Cocoon (Population: Me)

I am now the proud President of My Personal Cocoon.

Inside, I sip my coffee (or tea depending on mood swings), read my books, tend to my plants, pat my dogs & my binnies, and talk to my opinionated Turkeys & my wild birds who, thankfully, haven’t yet learnt the art of fakeness. My cocoon is judgment-free, drama-free, and subscription-free. No backbiting. No mind games. No “I hope you fail” energy.

Some may call it withdrawal. Some may call it becoming a loner.

I call it preserving my sanity.

Because let’s face it: running after people who don’t believe in the same value system is like trying to teach a cat to fetch. It won’t, and you’ll look foolish.

Are We All Becoming Loners?

Yes. And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe solitude isn’t such a bad thing when the noise outside resembles a continuous season of badly written reality shows. Maybe peace isn’t in fixing others, but in choosing not to participate in their daily auditions for “Who Can Be More Selfish Today?”

I still love people — from a safe, non-interfering distance. I cheer for the few who deserve it. I still offer help when genuinely needed, but I no longer run emergency rescue missions for people who enjoy living in their self-dug holes.

My Secret Weapon

Every time I feel tempted to step back into that messy arena, I whisper to myself:

“Darling Lady, you don’t run the world. You run your mind. Protect that.”

And with that, I sip my coffee (or my tea), scratch my dog’s ears, water my little green plant, and smile.

Because in the end — my peace is not for public auction.

A Whispered Truth

While I stood brewing tea and watching leaves that sway,
A thought above, like breeze, slipped softly through my mind:
"Why fight the world that chooses its own way,
When peace within is rarer still to find?"

The noise of hearts that chase and cheat and feign,
Had weighed my soul, though not of my own deed.
Yet dawn arrived and whispered clear and plain:
"Release their race, attend to your own need."

No council sought me, no one's called my name,
To fix their faults or write their broken tune.
My task: to tend my simple, honest flame,
And hum my song beneath a quiet moon.

So came this thought — unasked, but warmly true,
To let them be — and simply, just be you.

#CocoonDiaries

#OnePersonArmy

#PeaceOverDrama

#LearningToLetGo

#SanityPreserved

#HumorTherapy