All things come to an end, this is an indisputable fact. Whether that end is the last breathes of a life, the completion of a task, the final leg of a journey, or the scraping of a fork on an empty plate, there will be an ending. Some endings are easy to cope with and others take an achingly long amount of time to get over, but eventually acceptance comes and, if we’re lucky, a measure of peace.
I find these things to be true, and yet each week I enter a realm of denial and regret. It is like clockwork, literally, because when the sun begins to set on Sunday evening, I find myself dreading another ending.
You didn’t think I was going to go all serious did you?
Actually, the end of a weekend is quite serious and it is this weekly trauma that I find myself struggling with and unable to accept. I know the weekend must come to an end, on a purely intellectual level I embrace this truth, but my heart aches and my thoughts swirl in a haze of repudiation. ‘The weekend simply can’t be over’, is a thought that circles my mind as the Sunday-night-anxiety sets in (truthfully I use much more colorful language when I’m having an internal conversation).
How does one muddle through the dying light of the weekend and face the interminable days of the work week without the lingering loss of freedom etched into our face?
Wine may appear to be an answer to this query, but this balm to the soul is more of a bandaid than any true remedy. Yoga clearly wouldn’t help me through my malaise, although yoga pants would be an asset as they provide physical comfort. Chocolate is another tried and true method of self-soothing, but when the carton of peanut butter and chocolate deliciousness is gone I feel bereft of my sweet treat and even more reluctant to grasp acceptance.
I have found that very few things pave the road to accept what we do not wish to give up. In the case of Sunday night blues, there is the knowledge that another weekend is on the horizon and beyond that may be a three-day weekend or mini-break. However, my reluctance to acquiesce to the inevitable often overshadows any glimmer of peace I may find in looking toward future Saturday and Sunday freedoms. Which leaves me feeling cranky and in need of a chocolate bar, though I know the confection will have little impact on my state of mind. Clearly, I need more incentive to alter my mental state than the prospect of future weekends or additional chocolates can offer.
But what compelling idea, or tangible item, could aid me in snuffing out my despair and replacing it with serene acceptance?
Do you have any kernels of wisdom that could assist me in my plight?
Can you sympathize with my struggle? Has the setting sun of a Sunday ever brought you grief or elicited protestations?
Do you have a magic elixir or mantra that I could borrow?
Seriously, I have no idea how to address this issue because if I did I wouldn’t remain in this perpetual struggle. I am counting on you to offer guidance.
Wait...I’ve just thought of the ideal way to approach the culmination of the weekend with joy rather than sorrow.
Winng the lottery! (Obviously, I mean the big jackpot because those scratchers rarely even net me two bucks)
If I won the lottery, then I wouldn’t feel such wrenching sadness during the dusk of every Sunday and could cheerfully enter, what in essence would be, a never-ending weekend! Of course, I have no proof of the veracity of this claim, but it sounds perfectly reasonable to me, so let’s run with it.
Shopping list for tomorrow:
That should do it. I feel better about this Sunday already. Now, if only I could come to grips with the fact that it’s only Wednesday...