Just A Normal Day

It started out almost like a joke. After a long day of meetings or a full-on shoot, even on nights we came home clutching industry awards, when someone asked how my day was, I’d shrug and say, “Just a normal Monday.” Or Tuesday. Or Thursday.

Like this past week.

Monday and Tuesday were back-to-back sessions at a marketing conference. I had a presentation to deliver, and in between group activities, I was replying to messages to prepare for a full-day production happening on Wednesday. I even left the office halfway just to check in on set and make sure everything was on track.

That same Tuesday night, after a team dinner with our regional guests, my coworkers and I spontaneously decided to go karaoke, because our usual spot was just three minutes from the restaurant. We said we’d leave by 12:30 a.m. We stayed until 3. Grabbed some refreshers. Got home by 5. I was up again at 6:30 a.m. for shoot day. We wrapped by 10:30 p.m.

Then Thursday started. Back-to-back meetings. I barely had any time to breathe. By 6:15 p.m., we were rushing into city traffic for an hour-long drive to attend an award ceremony, where we ended up winning two industry awards.

I think about everything that had happened in just those few days — the running, the dancing, the chaos, the mess, and I said it again: Just a normal week.

We’re so used to thinking of “normal” as bland. Routine. Mundane. Monotonous. A placeholder until something more exciting happens. But somewhere along the way, I had rewired it for myself.

Because I kept calling these full, vibrant, chaotic days “normal,” I started associating the word with warmth, momentum, laughter, meaning, presence. And now, because I’ve made joy feel normal, I’ve started feeling joy in the quiet too.

Like on Friday, when I brought my daughter to the office. My coworkers and I, together with Aquila, went out for lunch. Just before we left the mall, two of them decided, on a whim, to get their noses pierced. I remember them walking back into the office with their slightly red noses, and I thought: Yep, just a normal Friday.

Other days, I’m home crocheting while my daughter turns the living room into a crime scene made entirely of powder. Or maybe we just go out nearby for lunch. Or I spend the whole day typing, replying, editing — nothing particularly memorable to mark the hours. And yet, I’ll go to bed feeling full. Even when the to-do list was long or the hours felt repetitive, I saw colour in it. Because the sunset hues in the horizon that I see while I am driving on my way home took my breath away.

And eventually, even the harder days began to carry that same word. The days where there’s too much to do, when things don’t go as planned. when someone says something that stings. or when everything feels just a bit too much, or maybe not enough.

Still, I say it: Just a normal day.

Because I've accepted that normal isn’t perfect. It’s human. And I think that’s what I’ve really been learning; To appreciate the experience of simply being, to let every shade of emotion pass through me, and still choose to meet it with presence.

Now I finally understand what the old folks mean when they say, *kata-kata itu doa*. Words are a prayer. The way you speak about your life is the way your life becomes. Through what you verbalise to the universe, you shape your expectations, your memories, and your ability to see the good.

By saying *just a normal day* on days that were rich with emotion, or laughter, or stillness, even sadness, I was teaching myself that these are the baseline. That life doesn’t have to spike to feel worthwhile. And on the days that really are uneventful? I still say it.

It became a spell. A soft, spoken reminder that my daughter’s mess, my partner’s teasing, my team’s antics, and even the sun or rain, are enough to make this day whole. There’s something spiritual about that, I think. Now, whenever I say *just a normal day*, I say it with a smile that only I understand. Because I know what it means now. Even if tomorrow looks nothing like today, I’ll still greet it the same way.

And right now, I’m sitting here crocheting, watching YouTube commentaries. My daughter won’t stop playing that K-pop Demon Hunters on TV. I can hear Street Fighter blaring from my husband’s PC. The house is full of noise, and warmth, and life.

And I’m thinking to myself:

What a way to end a normal week.