Not All Longest Nights Belong to the Sky

Hello hello wonderful humans! I hope your days go as smoothly as possible💚 Happy holidays and Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating🎉🙂

Last Sunday was the longest night of the year for many of us. In Persian, this night is celebrated as "Yalda".

Yalda Night is known as the longest night of the year — a moment we can measure, predict, and mark together. We know exactly when it starts and when it ends.

Historically, it symbolized the victory of light over darkness and hope over hardship. Families gather to stay awake through the night, trusting that after the longest darkness, the days would begin to grow longer again. ✨

But life has its own longest nights.

There are nights that don’t follow astronomy or calendars. Nights of loss, anxiety, depression, uncertainty, illness, or waiting. Nights where time feels stretched, where the idea of “morning” feels distant or irrelevant. Nights that don’t end with sunlight, gatherings, or tradition.

This post is about acknowledging those nights.
The ones we don’t name.
The ones we endure silently.
The ones that feel endless not because of the sky, but because of what we are carrying.

Yalda reminds us that darkness passes. But it also invites us to ask harder questions about the darkness we live through.

⁛What has been the longest night of your life?
⁛What made it feel endless?
⁛Did you have support, or did you carry it alone?
⁛What helped you get through — or are you still in it?
⁛And when you imagine “morning,” what does that actually mean for you?

(Kindly please add trigger warning if necessary!)
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