Confession time.
I’ve hated Sunday nights since I was a five-year-old kid.
And
that feeling followed me into my adulthood. As many bartenders around Chicago
can attest, I’ve spent many a day in the bar on a Sunday. I would do anything to
ward off that feeling. That nagging, lingering sense that life was speeding up
again. That strategy doesn’t work anymore, as I need to pay attention to people
and can’t do that with a hangover. And really I’m not sure it ever worked. It’s
at best a distraction and at worst a bad crutch.
I’ve
spoken to a LOT of people about the Sunday night blues, and know I’m not alone.
In a 2013 poll from the career site Monster.com, 81 percent of respondents said
they get Sunday-night blues—and 59 percent said they experience them “really
bad.
So
what are the Sunday night blues
anyway? Where do they come from?
I
guess the obvious place to start would be the idea that we as kids have school
the next day. Kids live for the weekends, and the idea of classes and homework
on Monday is a real drag. As a Catholic kid, I also had church on Sundays,
which was yet another activity I didn’t enjoy. I was a squirmy kid to begin
with, and that was the longest hour of my life. And God forbid you got one of
the old priests. You could be there all day talking about Barabbas and Ezekiel…
Then
we get older and have to go to work. It all starts up again on Mondays and we start
feeling the old dread. Back to the grind.
I
suffered from this condition for a couple of decades or so. I was one of those
who fit into the “really bad" category, and it really was a situational kind of
depression. It was a strange mix of boredom, anxiety, and restlessness.
Finally,
I decided that I was sick of feeling like that and decided to do something
about it. When I felt like doing nothing, I scheduled something I really liked
to do, like watching a new movie or going to a great new restaurant. I made a
special playlist with all of my favorite songs that I would play on Sunday
nights. I’d hire a cleaner to come in on Saturday so I was living in a place
that was clean and comfortable.
And
this worked just fine. The idea was being more generous with yourself even when
you’re not feeling your best. Good advice for anyone really. It’s not what
happens to us as much as how we respond to what happens to us. Having a plan
for Sunday nights helped with this a lot.
But
lately that hasn’t been enough, so I decided to try something else. I thought
back to my early days as a fidgety kid in that church and did some thinking.
Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves singing abut Eagle’s wings and
shaking hands and saying “peace be with you,” and I felt like I was missing
something.
So
all these years later I’ve found my own kind of church again. Being out in
nature. Finding someplace beautiful and enjoying solitude. Clearing my mind and
taking a little stock as to where I am and where I’m going.
And
the craziest thing has happened. Not only do I not dread Sunday nights anymore,
but I actually look forward to them. In my job I talk to people all day every
day. They need my full attention and I need to listen to people’s stories very
carefully. Taking some time to myself while looking at that big blue ocean reminds
me that I’m part of something a little bigger. That there is some good in the
world. Some beauty.
All of us need to unplug and recharge the batteries once in a while.
