A Case of the Sundays

I hate Sundays. I always have – even when I was a little kid, which is understandable because Sunday meant back to school. It meant a homework assignment or project that was looming and knots in my stomach from another week ahead. I told y’all, I was a really anxious kid. I remember relishing the summer days when I didn’t have any real responsibility and my Sundays were mostly free of anxiety.

Until I “grew up” and got a job. Then the anxiety was really bad.

But even now Sundays fill me with dread, which they shouldn’t. I no longer work outside the home and honestly after a weekend nonstop with the kids, Mondays are a welcome sight as I send them off to preschool or summer camp for a few blessed hours of peace and quiet.

Yet here I am starting to shake and sweat. I can feel my cheeks turn red and my stomach is churning. That dark cloud, which is like a shadow these days, is there even though I had a decent day. That’s the not-so-funny thing about anxiety – your triggers never really go away. Anxiety sneaks up on you and no matter what you’re doing and how much fun you’re having, it comes back crushing your good mood and bringing on breathing exercises and other coping skills that you may have learned throughout the years to survive. Or just get by.

To be honest I probably won’t do breathing exercises or listen to my meditation app, which I know might help. Tonight, I’ll let anxiety’s best friend depression take over and hopefully I’ll fall asleep compliments of an Ambien (it’s prescribed). It’s just too much work.

One of my best friends described depression and anxiety the best. When you’re suffering with depression (anxiety is often a part of that) you have to actively remind yourself to breathe, blink and even move because none of those are an automated response anymore. Instead your brain is consumed with a dark storm that has knocked the power out and there is no generator. You are on manual survival mode and you get so tired of working so hard just to breathe, blink and move.

It’s exhausting. And I think that’s why people commit suicide – because it’s tiring, people don’t understand and it’s hard to get help. (I’m not suicidal, there are just my thoughts from today.)

But that’s why we have to keep talking about it. Over and over again.

That’s all for now.