By Emilie Woods, Staff Writer ||
Homework. Laundry. Hail. Ick. These were the words that filled my mind as I drifted to consciousness last Sunday morning. The weight of the day was hanging on my body before it could even begin. Such dread from a typically happy girl! What was going on here? Enter the Sunday Blues. Yep— I know it so well that I’ve named it (at least, I think I did). Some people call it being in a rut, but to me, it is a bluesy feeling all around. It is that dreary, heavy-heartedness that creeps up on us all. It is those dreaded hours that bring us down from our weekend ecstasy. Not so fun, am I right?
A lot of feet dragging occurs on Sundays. There is a certain sadness that lingers in the air, hovering over our heads. It leaves us feeling bummed out and defeated. Last year I attended school in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where it seemed to rain almost every Sunday— I was actually convinced that this day was out to get me. Thankfully, it wasn’t. It turns out that this was all just part of an idea that I have been buying into for quite some time.
This is how most people view the week: Monday is out of control, Wednesday is rough but is also hump day, Thursday is pretty darn cool, Friday is the bomb, and Sunday is, well, the worst. I, too, buy into all of these notions, but what is the deal here? Why do we attach so much significance to the days of the week?
Strangely, in retrospect, the Sundays of my childhood were filled with joyful things. After church on Sundays, my family often used to go to a bagel store in our Brooklyn neighborhood to bring home breakfast. We would visit our grandparents on Sunday evenings, where the most delicious smells of four o’clock dinners filled the house and my Grandma never failed to feed us with the best food. I associate all of these happy memories with Sunday, so why do I think of it with a small shudder today?
Clearly, it’s all in the week that lies ahead. Monday is the start of a week full of classes, work, or some other anxiety for the majority of people, and this is a stress-inducing fact. Stress. I am starting to get annoyed with that word. Although I can be the queen of it at times, I would really like to be a part of a future in which people are less stressed. So, I think we need to start conquering it now.
Two Sundays ago, I saw a bit of Sun streaming through my window, and without batting an eye, I got up and put on a dress. Just this article of clothing made me feel livelier and on top of things; it put purpose into my day. This past Sunday, although it seemed as though ice balls were being chucked from the heavens, I wore some of my favorite earrings to dinner, just because. As my dad often says, “Lookin’ good, feelin’ good!” What makes up a person on the inside will always beat looks for me, when you can walk outside and feel proud of your appearance, the world will always be a little brighter. When you know that you look good, you will most often feel good as well.
Doing little things like this has made me appreciate Sundays so much more, and I am now certain that a lot of the unhappiness that seems to be attached to these days is all in our heads. It is this big idea that we’ve blown up and are all buying into: Sundays suck. But if the days of the week didn’t exist, Sunday would just be another 24 hours, just another period of time that holds as much possibility as the start of a weekend or as the first day of summer.
So, we have two options. Either we accept the fact that Sunday is the worst, or, we can face this day and be finished with its nonsense. We can pick up our feet, put on some dashing clothes, crank up the music, and face the world for what its worth. No, of course this is not as easy as it sounds, but it is certainly possible.
No more feet dragging Sundays! Let’s keep our heads and our spirits high! The Sunday blues are so normal, but I believe there is a way to turn it on its head. Maybe it is this Springy weather that has gotten to me, but whatever the cause, I’m on a mission to reclaim my Sundays.
Emilie Woods is a sophomore staff writer. Email her at ewoods@fandm.edu.