Going into the weekend, I had intended to recap all my activities on here like I have been recently, but I have something else on my mind — and that’s what you’ll be getting instead…

I’m sure you’ve seen Facebook plastered with “Sunday Funday” in people’s statuses or #sundayfunday all over Instagram at the end of every week (or the beginning, however you like to look at it). It’s become quite the trend this year. I like the idea behind it: enjoy the weekend the best you can — even making fun plans for Sunday. I’m happy other people enjoy Sundays, but it’s my least favorite day of the week. Yes, even Mondays tend to go better for me. Let me explain.

Sundays go well for me until about 3 or 4 p.m. I get to sleep in, lounge around a bit, and perhaps go out to brunch. But then, a combination of restlessness, anxiousness, and sadness creeps up around mid-afternoon. It’s the realization that I’m coming up on another week and only have precious hours left until I go back to work and the day-to-day routine. I don’t know what to do with those hours most of the time. I need to plan out a menu for the week and buy the groceries, but that rarely happens. I could focus on personal projects, such as selecting photos to print to actually decorate our walls or finally conceptualizing a business card for myself to advertise my design services. But instead, I don’t commit to anything. My restlessness/anxiousness/sadness is debilitating enough that I can’t accomplish anything. I’ll start on a task and switch to another one quickly or I’ll surrender to watching a TV show because it’s hard for me to get up and do anything because I know I’ll be worthless. I can’t win.

The feelings I experience on Sundays is nothing new. It stems back to college (and perhaps even earlier, but I can’t remember…). I spent every free moment I could with David over the weekends. Sunday afternoons you could usually find us in the student publications office eating Papa John’s pizza and working away. I’d work on yearbook pages and he’d do nursing homework. When it got late, we’d part ways. I didn’t stay with him. He had to get up early for nursing school, so I would go back to my single dorm room and lay awake in the dark missing him (wow, I was a little attached/lovesick wasn’t I?) and thinking of all the stress I was going to encounter during the week.

I still haven’t found a complete cure for my Sunday blues, but staying caffeinated seems to help. And you’d think I should make plans on Sunday evening to keep my mind off of my feelings, but my anxiousness intensifies if I’m around other people. So even though I won’t get much done at home, I need Sunday nights to myself. This is all strange, I know. It’s hard to explain. But the silver lining to all of this? You found out more about me.

Questions for you

  • Do you have any helpful tips for me?
  • What do you do to combat the blues?