Ever since forever Sunday evenings have always been a reflective time for me (and by reflective I mean sad). It goes back to when I was in school. It wasn’t a “darn I have to go back to school, work, whatever tomorrow” moment. I can’t really explain it logically.
Much as Friday is a day of celebration and Monday a new start, Sunday was a sad day, especially in the evening. It’s a day I can get weepy on a dime. My heart could hurt over nothing. I never understood it. Even when I had very exciting jobs (and I had a few of them), I didn’t feel joyful on Sunday nights. I always thought I was weird. Then I heard Kris Kristofferson’s song. Despite the drug, alcohol and party hardy references, I could relate to the underlying feelings.
I find myself longing to return to the weekday routine of Monday (I know everyone but me hates Mondays). It’s been with me for well over 60 years through good times and bad so I don’t ever expect it to go away. Out of curiosity I “googled” it. (What did we do before google?) It’s a thing. “Sunday blues.”
The suggested causes don’t fit me. We always search for logic and this may not have any logic. It has nothing to do with the stresses or prep work of the coming week. I have it when I’m on vacation. I am not stressed about what I’ll have for breakfast on vacation although the absence of a good mocha latte at the beach is disheartening.
Over the years I’ve learned to manage it by doing things I enjoy on a Sunday. Making it special in some way. If I need a good cry, I let her rip. I medicate with cat hugs and two trips to Starbucks instead of one when necessary. I don’t make it a work day unless I have to.
Here’s how Kris describes it (it’s not about hangovers, drinking, drugs so get beyond that):
On the Sunday morning sidewalk
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
Makes a body feel alone
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
Half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleeping city sidewalks
Sunday morning coming down