I painted my nails this morning, a seemingly small thing. But I cannot remember the last time I painted them. Perhaps we still had snow on the ground from last winter. The parallel of our early snow is not lost on me.
My nails are short, which makes the manicure imperfect. It’s hard to make nails this short and uneven look good, but painting them feels like an accomplishment nonetheless. I’m going to call it a win because when I am anxious or otherwise struggling, my nails are often the first things to go. When everything seems pointless, I am not going to take the time and effort it requires to paint my nails without butchering them.
So when I’m dealing with family drama, health concerns, poor pet behavior, frustrating clients, or trying to pay my bills like a functioning adult, nail polish falls to the wayside. After all, it’s such a trivial thing. It’s more important to vacuum or do the dishes.
But my naked nails break so much more easily. They become weak and uneven, and every time I look at this I feel frustrated that I haven’t been able to keep up with such a trivial thing. What’s more, I worry that others will see them and similarly judge me, perhaps not because they are judgmental but because I have similar thoughts about others’ appearances. I am hard on others, harder on myself.
On the other hand, I cannot help but wonder if people might take note of my nails, which have been naked for much of the year and make note of my struggle. They are, after all, a gauge of my mental health. It’s something I have not been able to forget over the last few years, but perhaps no one else has noticed.
I noticed, however. I also noticed that things have been on the upswing. This year started more positive. It felt like a fresh start. And while COVID and several injuries have added some stress, the trend of my mental state has generally been positive. I legitimately feel better than I have in a few years, and sometimes thoughts to that extent pop into my mind. I stop and notice that I’m enjoying myself. I don’t know if anyone else has noticed that, either. But I have.
Yet, I am still brought down by the state of my nails. Sadly because my nails break so easily, it doesn’t feel worth the effort to paint them when they’re short. That’s why they’ve remained naked aside from some inconsistent clear polish this year. I have to convince myself that it’s worth doing, anyway, that starting now will offer some protection and perhaps help them grow out. It’s like the awkward stage bangs go through when you’re growing them out.
And I was finally able to convince myself of that today after considering it for the last few weeks. To be honest, it feels like a bit of a waste to pick a pricier polish as I did, but I wanted to motivate myself to paint my nails, and I did. I did an okay job, even though it’s hard to keep them neat when they’re so short. I even bought and used a cuticle pusher. The process took a bit of time. I forgot how long it takes for the polish to dry.
But dry it did. They’re painted. I set a goal and achieved it, even if it took much longer than I would have liked. And maybe I won’t keep up with it long enough for my nails to grow a bit more so I can shed that silly sense of shame. But, for today, I feel a bit better. And maybe I will tomorrow, too.