Anti-depressant Edibles

Wednesdays.

The bastard child of the week. Not close enough to the weekend to spark joy, and too far from Monday to justify the misery. It’s that limbo where the coffee wears off by noon, the meetings multiply like rabbits, and the only glimmer of hope is the whisper of Thursday - still playing hard to get.

But then... like a knight in crispy, garlicky armor .. enters the Shawarma.

After a day spent dancing to the corporate circus tune, nothing.. and I mean nothing .. brings your soul back from the brink like a proper Khaleeji-style shawarma. It’s as if God looked at human suffering, took pity, and said, “Let there be grilled meat.” Wrapped it in a warm pita, hugged it with pickles, slathered it in garlic sauce, and gave it to us like a peace treaty between man and Monday.

This is not food. It is therapy rolled up in bread. A post-work miracle. An edible hug. A deliciously seasoned middle finger to the universe.

You see, shawarma has powers no meditation guru can compete with. While you’re there cross-legged chanting “Om,” I’m unwrapping my meat shawarma and achieving actual inner peace. One bite in, and I’ve forgotten all about the guy who “accidentally” hit “Reply All” on the email thread.

Tired? Angry? One bite. Boom. Rebooted.

Dead inside after eight Zoom calls and a spreadsheet-induced meltdown? Take a bite. Bang. You’re back online. It’s like a video game health potion .. except this one comes with crispy onions and tangy tahini.

And oh, the joy of eating a shawarma without spilling it .. that’s your mini Mount Everest for the day. A test of focus, skill, and wrist dexterity. A successful, clean bite feels like winning an Olympic medal. A messy one? Still a win. Because the only loser in the shawarma game is the one who didn’t order it.

Forget therapy. Shawarma doesn’t judge. It doesn’t nod condescendingly or ask about your relationship with your parents. It simply says, “Here, eat this, and shut up.” And it works.

So next time life gives you lemons, say “No thanks,” and grab a shawarma instead. Because on the worst of days, when your soul is dry, your patience is fried, and your manager just sent you another “gentle reminder” .. there, at the end of the tunnel, warm and slightly dripping in garlic sauce, is your silver lining.

A shawarma.

Your hero.

Your soulmate.

Your mid-week messiah.

Now go forth, my friend. Eat, unwrap, and conquer.