I think this is what the Sunday Scaries are about. The sadness of the end of the weekend, which we have all learned is a precious thing, a fun thing, something to soak up and enjoy. It seems that no matter how much joy I have absorbed that weekend, I feel sad that it’s over, and like I’ve lost a chance at something fleeting simply by making it to Sunday evening.
For me the Sunday Scaries are not so much about dreading the work week. I like my job. I like being needed, productive, and busy. I don’t mind Monday mornings, with coffee and my journal, music and a full to-do list.
It’s all about that ending. Grieving the loss of all the things I could have done and been created and felt, in those two days that society has dictated are mine to play with, free from guilt and obligation. Just two days of the week when I allow myself to dream and relax, when I have these grand ideas of new projects and revamped routines and books I could finish.
I know that it’s in my head, and that as an adult with a flexible, remote job, my weekdays don’t have to be very different from my weekends. I can work when I want (aside from meetings), take walks in the middle of the day, stay up late, sleep in, work from the couch, a cafe, the pool. But I’m still stuck in that childhood narrative that the fun is over, and I failed to have enough of it, and now I must wait another week to give it another shot.